#and THEN he said we should do it more often?! have sex every time we get drunk?! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lucyandthepen · 9 months

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salted caramel | lmh ( m )

you hadn’t been aware that mark’s jealousy followed the rules of baseball — three strikes, and he snaps?

read the first part here!

pairing: barista!bf!mark x reader verse: college!au rating: r warnings&tags: unprotected sex, mentions of creampies (although not an actual one), hickeys, possessiveness and jealousy, exhibitionism, sort of phone sex in conjunction with said exhibitionism, oral (m!receiving), mark has an understated but unending obsession with mc’s stomach, tummy bulges, we always love an implicit bigdick!mark, donghyuck is kind of a little shit and basically he has to cross a few lines for this “plot” to get to where it gets word count: 20.3k

a/n: this is a bit rushed and panicked because I basically wrote it in a feverish 2.5ish days… i’m so sorry that the pacing might be a little off, especially since I can never tell if it’s actually too fast or not. this is also unedited and unbeta’d but oh well because i never edit my stuff before posting and just re-edit when I re-read! regardless, i hope it’s something that you can enjoy, and i couldn’t pick between sweetest bf ever!mark and hottest mf ever!mark, so i guess you get a little bit of both!

if you liked it, please consider reblogging to support (especially because this may get flagged for mature content)!

You should have noticed it the first time, but in your overall defense, you find most things that you take note of about Mark Lee to be more on the highly positive and greatly endearing side — or, maybe, you just have a tendency to paint him in that kind of light.

You can’t really help it; he’s still got that halfway shy, softly adoring look in his eyes whenever he sees you, which is more often now than ever before, and you just can’t do anything but reciprocate, if only to see his eyes grow a little brighter. You wonder if Mark’s aware that if this were a Shakespearean scenario, you’d easily fall on your sword for him without question, for as long as he asked, but you don’t think there’s any pressing need to remind him — not with the way you spend most of your free time figuring out ways to be with him. You’re certain he should know, what with the fact that every time he looks at you, even just a glimpse, your gaze is always on him, ready to make eye contact whenever he turns his head — something he often acknowledges with one of those signature blushes that spread like wildfire across his cheeks, up to the tips of his ears.

It also should be unmistakably clear that you’re head over heels for him, given how at least once a week, he’s got his face buried between your legs in an attempt to hear the thing he wants you to say the most (see: his name, in varying pitches and decibels) — but if he doesn’t notice then, you can’t hold it against him; Mark’s mouth is so attentive that you doubt his mind is anywhere else apart from what inch of you his tongue is going to meet next in that moment. At least, that much is true for you.

He should at least know, what with you waiting for his classes to end so you can walk to Starbucks for his afternoon shift; you even race the twenty-minute distance to the Department of Mathematics, still holding your European Renaissance History textbook from your last lecture, just to make sure you’re there right as he gets out — a fact he has to know is an act of devotion, considering how often he finds you heaving for air and leaning your back against the brick wall outside the Accounting 150 Lab. Even his professor knows you as Mark Lee’s admirer, which is all well and good, but if you had the breath to spare, you’d correct his terminology for accuracy. Girlfriend. You’re Mark Lee’s girlfriend.

It’s a fact you don’t mind reminding him of but that you actually have to do quite often, because when you call Mark the appropriate counterpart — boyfriend — his eyes still widen, like he’s hearing it for the first time. It’s cute, just like everything else about him. You just have to wonder, at times, if he doesn’t believe you.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter; you’ll just keep telling him.

You don’t have any classes with Mark this semester, which is a shame, considering your favorite pastime over the last few months had just been to stare at his side profile and wish he’d look over so you could kiss him, but the fact that you spend almost every day with him now, using that time to remind him of how much you want to kiss him and actually getting it to do it right then and there, pretty much more than makes up for your previous schedule of daydreaming.

However, hanging out with him doesn’t always mean you’re just with him; you came to learn this after the first week of the new semester, and you’ve now gotten used to the fact that with Mark Lee sometimes comes his band of tall, often loud friends.

The loudest by far is Lee Donghyuck, the mysterious figure last semester that you’d only known by one syllable, now easily recognizable (and no longer enigmatic by any means to you) by his booming voice and even more demanding personality. He’s supremely outgoing, a trait you can’t say you mind, but there’s an interesting contrast between Mark, who tends to say things after carefully considering his ideas, and Donghyuck, who seems to just burst out in fits of impulsive rambling that often leads to some kind of semi-structured debate. It kind of gives you whiplash, in a funny, slightly perplexing way.

The whole friend group likes to meet up at Starbucks while Mark is on his shift, and now that they’ve come to know you as that girl Mark didn’t teach a single thing in College Algebra to but still somehow got lucky with (something you’ve wasted immense efforts into correcting but have ultimately failed to do so), you now find yourself sitting with them, all somehow waiting for who appears to be the nucleus of this group to stop taking coffee orders and hang up his (cute, but you’re the only one that thinks so, actually) green apron.

Again, you don’t mind it; new people aren’t an issue to you, and you’re also interested in finding out more about Mark through those closest to him. You get to see the few ways they’re alike in contrast to the staggering number of things that make them amusingly different from one another. Despite the broad spectrum of their intersecting interests, you’ve come to learn, through the conversations you’ve had to sit through over the last month, that they have varying opinions on said interests. For instance, you know they’re all into video games, Japanese manga, and long-winding fantasy movies, but every conversation takes flight the moment there’s even a spark of dissent from one person — and the source, usually (and quite unfortunately), is Lee Donghyuck himself.

Today is no exception.

“Dude, you’re crazy,” Zhong Chenle practically seethes. Whether by sheer coincidence or actual desire, he’s the one who most often finds himself staring Donghyuck down, trying to bend the latter’s will into admitting defeat. Donghyuck, on the other hand, has mastered the art of looking supremely unperturbed, especially when Chenle is in the heat of his rage. “The ninth was the worst, hands down.”

“Art and rendering were so solid.” Donghyuck raises a finger, and you’re not sure if it’s to start off a list or to shut Chenle up. You don’t want to ask, anyway, too busy finding amusement in the shifting expressions of despair, rage, anguish, and murderous intent on the latter’s face to speak up. You presume that’s why everyone else isn’t stopping them — or maybe they’re just preparing their own defenses and points to raise. “Intuitive combat and flawless combo chains. The fucking open world? Which other installment in the franchise offers that much depth in the gameplay?”

“Depth? Do you even hear yourself right now?” Chenle grips his head so tightly that when he pulls his hands away, there are actual red marks across his forehead and temple, and his bangs are askew. “What kind of depth comes from cloned movesets? The character designs are so stupidly traditional too. And—”

“There’s a unique kind of beauty in familiarity.”

“The open world was a disaster,” Chenle plows on. “It was so empty, and the map was the farthest thing from intuitive. It’s quite literally the worst thing KOEI has ever done. That’s exactly why they went back to the limited map strategy in later installments. Even the spin-offs.”

“I thought the grappling and ambush systems were pretty intuitive. Ingenious, even.”

It’s a singularly amusing sight — Chenle is one insult to his pride away from imploding, and Donghyuck is just checking the dirt under his nails like he’s waiting in line to take his school ID photo. Park Jisung, one of the quieter ones in the bunch, tries to diffuse the tension by clearing his throat and going ‘I actually really liked the Age Of Calamity Zelda one they released with all the different campaigns,’ but that just goes unnoticed by either party.

“You once failed an ambush play just because you were stuck behind a wall you couldn’t scale. Don’t say shit about the ambush and grappling mechanics.”

“Unlike some people sitting around this table, I learn from my mistakes. That’s also probably why some people — not naming names — just can’t appreciate the artistic beauty that is Dynasty Warriors 9.”

Donghyuck doesn’t even look up from his cuticles when Chenle explodes.

“You’re fucking impossible!”

“Can you guys relax?” Lee Jeno, who had somehow miraculously found the space and silence in the breaths between the entire argument to doze off, opens one eye, only slightly irate. “You’re making a scene over a dead game franchise.”

“It’s not dead; they’re on hiatus,” both Chenle and Donghyuck chime in together, apparently finding a moment of unique solidarity to shoot Jeno down before going back to glaring daggers at each other. Jeno shrugs, gives everyone else at the table an I tried kind of exasperated expression, and settles back into his seat, the one eye already closing before he’s fully folded his arms across his chest.

Your eyes wander away from the group over to the counter. You’re thankful for the fact that most of the time, you just get invited to share a table with them without necessarily being trapped in the middle of a conversation — especially one as heated as the one Chenle is prolonging while jabbing his finger accusingly at Donghyuck, as if he’s trying to pin a crime on the latter instead of just explaining why Donghyuck’s opinion is ‘borne of ignorance.’ When they’re all caught up in their business like this, you end up being able to revel in your more or less unobstructed view of Mark behind the barista’s station, where he’s busy piping an extra helping of whipped cream on top of a strawberry frappuccino for a kid that’s already jumping up and down next to the pick-up station.

The biting winter had already given way to the first signs of spring, and the Starbucks Mark works at has a supremely effective central heating system that allows people to shed their coats. This works in your favor, considering Mark wears nothing but a button-up shirt over his apron while he works, and he’s got this habit of rolling up his sleeves so they don’t catch any stains. You’re pretty sure he has a second motive, though; surely, he’s aware of how the view of his arms, muscles tightening under his skin whenever he even lightly grips something, drives you crazy. You’d bet a month’s allowance he’s doing it on purpose so that you start entertaining the thought of yelling at everyone in the branch to fuck off so you can grab him by the front of his stupid shirt so you can kiss his stupid face. Or ride it.

And for some inexplicable reason, he still has the audacity to act like there’s nothing amiss. When he looks up at you right after pushing the frappuccino towards the little girl, his eyes still brighten, almost innocent in their gaze, the corners of his lips turning up surreptitiously, hiding the smile he seems to save for only you from everyone else in the room.

You smile back, but when he turns away to take someone’s order, you let out a heavy sigh and take a long sip of your vanilla sweet cream cold brew until you start reaching the last dregs of it under the ice. Your brain pretty much cries out in protest, but you know it deserves as much as a mental cold shower for entertaining the thought of asking him to bend you over the counter at five-thirty in the afternoon in a Starbucks.

Stupid Mark. Stupid brain. Stupid fucking people in the room.

The warm breath in your ear alerts you to a slowly approaching presence, but you don’t have the reflexes to turn back to its source before it starts talking.

“Got anything to add to either of our cases, ___________?”

“What?” Your palm comes up to rub your ear as Donghyuck pulls away, laughing lightly. You’re sucked back into the foreground of the conversation, but you’re just as lost now as you had been before you started tuning them out in favor of your lust. “Uh — no. Sorry. To be honest, I know nothing about… sorry, what were you guys talking about again?”

“See, that’s how normal people act,” Jeno grumbles, both his eyes flying open this time. “Instead of hosting a presidential debate about Dynasty Warriors.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” You’re quick to add, and Jeno looks mildly amused at your attempt to still mollify the rest of the group. “I’m sure I would have liked it. If, you know, I actually had been introduced to it at any point in my life.”

“And if you had, I’m sure you’d have the taste to assert alongside me that the seventh installment was revolutionary,” Chenle sniffs, but he’s looking more pointedly at Donghyuck, who’s still ignoring him, save for the fact that he’s now looking at you instead of at his nails (which doesn’t feel like such a great upgrade).

“Nah, she’d be on my side. ___________ looks like she’d appreciate a good, scenic open world and grappling system. Right?”

“Uh…” you say smartly.

“Man, shut up.” Chenle throws his hands in the air before he stands up, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back with astounding force. “Got me so pissed off I need to pee now.”

You have no idea what the correlation is between getting annoyed and needing to use the bathroom, but even if you wanted to bring up your doubts — which you don’t — Chenle is long gone before you can get your thoughts together. It’s only when he’s out of earshot that Donghyuck leans in, almost conspiratorially, to whisper to you again.

“Actually, I think the ninth sucks too. But isn’t it kind of funny how worked up that fucker gets?”

“To be honest, I’ve never known anyone with quite your talent in riling people up,” you admit, and even though you’re not sure what kind of meaning you want attached to that, you notice that he decides to take it as a compliment all on his own, his chest puffing out in pride. “Too bad I have no idea which opinion is really right, or I’d weigh in, too.”

“Not a Dynasty Warriors kind of girl, then?”

“No one is, Hyuck,” Jeno snorts, shaking his head. “You two are the only people I know who still played that past the fifth installment.”

“Fair. I nurture a love for old franchises.” Donghyuck leans back, looking supremely satisfied at how he’s managed to tick off one of his most important ‘to-do’ points of the day. “So what’s your poison, ___________?”

“What’s that mean?”

“You a Gardenscapes kind of girl? Tekken? Maybe you like some good ol’ fashioned LoL?”

“I honestly don’t have the hand-eye coordination to play,” you confess. “I know Mark likes to play PUBG from time to time. I mostly just sit and ask questions, though. The few times I tried playing with him, I swear any normal person would’ve cried. He had to babysit me like crazy. It was a miracle he didn’t throw me out.”

“She even tries to play with him,” Donghyuck whistles lowly. “Dude, how’d Mark get a chick like you?”

“Meaning?”

“You’re way too good for that dope.” His laugh is light and good-natured. “Never thought a moony-eyed weirdo like him would actually wind up with his dream girl — which he’s called you, more than once, by the way. Fucking disgusting, but… I get it. Doesn’t make it less crazy or weird to hear, though.”

“Sorry to put you through that.” You smile, using your straw to stir the contents of your cup. A warmth spreads through your shoulders and down your arms to the tips of your fingers as you digest what Donghyuck’s just said to you, and you find your eyes trailing back to Mark, who’s pulling off his apron. His eyes are already fixed on you, and when you lock gazes, he mouths a wait for me that makes you want to squeeze the life out of something in pure joy. You settle for a soft sigh. “I guess it won’t help if I say your friend over there’s my dream guy.”

“It absolutely will not,” Donghyuck groans, faking a gagging noise that has you laughing. “But tell you what — if you ever get tired of Mark playing PUBG and ignoring you like the clown he is, I’ll find you someone else more your speed.”

“No thanks,” you snort, taking the last sip of your drink. “More than that, I’d just want to be some kind of helpful to him if I ever play with him again.”

“We can help you with that too,” Jisung volunteers. “Jeno taught me the basics. I’m sure he can teach you too.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing you’d be a better student than mister “how come you didn’t tell me I had to focus the crosshairs myself” over here,” Jeno chuckles, surreptitiously pointing at Jisung when you cast him a questioning look.

“I’m pretty good at sneak attacks myself.” Donghyuck makes a show of pretending to slice your neck before grinning smugly. “We’ll take care of you. Mark won’t know what hit him next time.”

“What’s happening to me next time?”

You feel Mark before you see him, his hand landing on your head lightly and smoothing your hair back in an idle, gentle motion to announce his presence. You look up at him, already beaming, and he returns the favor as his hand settles on your shoulder.

“We were just talking about replacing you. Both as a friend and as a boyfriend, for your poor little dream girl here who’s just too nice to turn you down.” Donghyuck lies like it’s second nature; you wonder if that’s a Finance major thing or just a him thing.

“And you’re offering that to someone who didn’t ask for it?” Mark snorts, nudging Chenle’s bag over so he can sit in the empty spot.

“She’s so caught up in your sticky little web that she can’t struggle against you.” Donghyuck feigns a heavy sigh that suggests he feels sorry for you before he puts a hand on your free shoulder, shaking his head in a convincing kind of pity. “I’ll save you, so don’t worry. Mark can’t keep his grubby hands on you forever. Whenever you need to be saved, I’ll come a-running to free you.”

There’s a tightness on one shoulder that disrupts the balance of your torso, and you find yourself leaning closer to Mark. Your hand finds its way to his knee, giving it a light squeeze under the table, and his grip loosens by a fraction. Donghyuck’s as quick to let go as he is to hang on.

“We were just talking about PUBG,” you correct, and Mark’s eyes snap to you. “I was asking for help — you know, so I won’t drag you down the next time I join in?”

“I don’t mind whatever you do in-game.” He’s quick to comfort you, even if you don’t actually need it, but it feels warm and cold “I’m just glad you wanna try it with me.”

“No, but I kind of want to learn too. So it can be fun for both of us. Also so you don’t have to keep avenging me after five minutes,” you laugh. Mark cracks a smile then, and you don’t realize his expression had been slightly harder until it softens under your gaze.

“Then I’ll teach you next time.”

“No, I want to surprise you with how cool I get. And then next time, I’ll even beat you.” You turn to Donghyuck, slightly unsure. “Uh… I can beat him, can’t I?”

“If you play different teams, yeah,” he confirms. “Trust me. I’ll help you kick his ass.”

“Or we’ll both kick yours,” Mark chuckles, his grasp now tightening and loosening intermittently. He’s massaging your shoulder lightly, and you end up sinking deeper into his side. You don’t miss the slightly nauseated amusement that passes across Donghyuck’s face nor the way he mouths ‘sap’ to Mark, who ignores this comment in its entirety.

“Yo, hotpot at seven? Renjun’s asking,” Chenle announces as he returns to your table, his phone in one hand and a crumpled paper towel in the other. “Jaemin can’t make it, though. Study group or whatever shit he always says.”

“I’m down,” Donghyuck immediately replies, and Chenle’s eyes shoot heavenward, like he’s already asking for the divine strength to not sock Donghyuck in the face later.

“Can’t,” Jeno yawns, both his arms outstretched as he tries to move the sleep out of his spine. “Pre-test tomorrow.”

“Dude, it’s a pre-test,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to study if they’re just testing how much you know before studying.”

“Gotta study all the same.”

“I gotta pass too,” Jisung looks actually apologetic. “I promised my mom I’d help her move some stuff to my aunt’s place tonight.”

“Boring,” Chenle grumbles before turning to the both of you. “Lovebirds?”

“Rain check,” Mark shakes his head. “Family dinner. My brother’s home for the weekend. How about Monday instead? Most of us can’t make it anyway. At least Jaemin doesn’t have study group either.”

“If that’s even what that weirdo’s doing,” Chenle sighs, already punching in a message to send to Renjun. “Fine; I’ll ask about Monday. You guys better actually reply to the goddamn group chat. I can’t coordinate in six different private chats ever again.”

“You can put my name down already,” Mark casts you a sideway glance, and you nod immediately. “Two names, actually.”

“I’m good on Monday too. When we see each other again, I’ll bring some prospects for you to sift through,” Donghyuck adds to you, and you laugh. “Cool guys. Jocks. I know this upperclassman all the girls say is really hot. I think I still have his Messenger from when we did a group discussion last semester.”

“I’ll have Mark look at them so he can reject them all for me,” you promise. Donghyuck feigns affront before looking at Mark in utter disbelief.

“How the fuck did you snag a girl like this, man?”

“I’m pretty sure she once told me I… what did you say?” Mark glances at you amusedly. “I had some moves, I guess.”

“You mean stutter and blush in her presence?” Donghyuck can’t decide how to look at you without being even the slightest bit offensive; he just settles on incredulity. “And that won you over?”

“Most powerful move in the Mark Lee playbook,” you shrug, grinning. “Had me from the first ‘um,’ and he’s had me ever since.”

“You lucky son of a bitch,” Donghyuck snorts, and neither of you misses the slightly abashed but unmistakable smugness in Mark’s face when you lean in to rest your head on his shoulder.

The second time it happens is on that Monday, in a far more noticeable capacity. You just aren’t quick enough to read the signs, as usual.

But in your defense (again), it hadn’t felt all that significant.

“Fuck, this is spicy,” Na Jaemin sucks air in through his teeth and lets it out in a sharp whistle that’s broken by a laugh that’s not necessarily at anything funny. Maybe he’s just laughing at the sheen of sweat across his forehead that he has to wipe off with the other side of his napkin.

Miraculously, the hotpot plan pushes through, with no small amount of effort in coordination on Chenle’s part; he’d even texted you just to make sure he’d gotten the head count right, despite the fact that Mark had already confirmed your attendance twice over. Even the often elusive Na Jaemin, who always seems to have one or another study group to attend on most nights, manages to come and is currently busy mixing his peanut sauce in his little bowl with such vigor that you can’t help but wonder if he’s not trying to drown the mala-flavored strips of meat in it completely.

“That’s why I said you need a bowl of water for dipping, you dimwit,” Donghyuck points his chopsticks at Jaemin’s messy plate in a way you can only describe as nagging, even if that’s actually impossible. “You’ve got super mala breath now.”

“Don’t know about me, but I can smell yours all the way from over here,” Jaemin quips back with an easy kind of nonchalance, hastily ducking the balled-up napkin that goes flying across the table. It lands on the floor behind his chair harmlessly.

It’s nice, you think, that Mark’s friends like to invite you to their outings now; despite all the jokes they’ve made at his expense, they’ve been consistently open to having you around. You’re not necessarily the type of couple that acts in a way that disgusts people into moving to a completely different table anyway, and you allow their conversations to unfold easily without ever interrupting, so you think that this arrangement works for all parties involved.

They’re even louder outside Starbucks, you’ve come to note; the restaurant is significantly busier than the cafe anyway, filled with people on their company dinners, so Mark’s friends all seem to want to rival that boisterous energy. Weirdly, you like it, even when they’re already half off their seats and one (Chenle) is just about to strangle the other (Donghyuck). The laughter flows freely, and there’s a messiness to the whole affair that makes it impossible to feel uncomfortable.

Even Mark pipes in occasionally, offering his opinion on topics he knows much more about than you, and you can’t help but admire how everyone listens to him when he starts to speak, even if he has nothing realistically important to say. His friends might find it odd that you’d been so drawn to him, but they just don’t know that even they’re victims of Mark’s natural magnetism, also falling quiet and eager to hear his voice, his light-hearted laugh, in response to the things they say.

But even when he’s mostly distracted by conversation, there’s a part of him that continuously pays attention to you in his own way. He nudges his ginger and soy sauce bowl towards you with the side of his wrist so you can dip your beef in, even if you’d adamantly declined him giving you your own bowl of it in the first place (you’d always thought you were peanut sauce or nothing kind of girl, but one sneaky venture into Mark’s sauce proved you wrong). His hand hovers over your head when you drop your chopsticks and bend over to pick them up from where they’ve rolled under the table, making sure you’re bump-free when you resurface.

And his palms always, always settle somewhere on you, no matter what he’s doing. If one hand is busy feeding himself, the other is intent on warming your thigh, passing over the denim in slow, steady strokes. His fingers tickle your knee when you laugh, just to make you laugh a little harder — you’d even almost kneed the table at one point, much to Huang Renjun’s alarm. But the most common place for his arm is around you, fingers lightly bunched into the side of your shirt, like he’s worried loosening his grip on you further will cause you to vanish. It keeps him close to you, keeps his scent and warmth washing over you in gentle waves, so much so that you often have to remind yourself that he’ll be the target of much light-hearted mockery if you so much as lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder.

But it’s hard to resist it, especially when his hand seems to be intent on outlining every curve on that side, passing over your hip and dipping into your waist. The motion allows him to slowly but surely lift the fabric of your shirt, up until there’s just enough of an opening for his palm to slip under, and suddenly it’s much warmer on that side, with the light roughness of his hand grazing at your skin. His fingers always stretch apart, like he’s trying to feel as much of you as he can, and the pads of his digits have a tendency to graze the plane of your stomach — his nails sometimes even travel featherlight just next to your navel, etching out words you can’t really decipher. Like he’s writing a message just for you.

It makes you feel like no matter what he’s doing, a part of his mind is always on you.

“You guys want to see that new horror movie? The Ghost Within, I think it’s called,” Jisung asks the group from over at the other end of the table, having to raise his voice significantly to make sure it isn’t swept away by the raucous laughter from across the restaurant. “I think it’s coming out in a week or two.”

“I’d be okay with it,” Renjun shrugs, although he doesn’t look enthused. “Kind of looks like a cliche horror with all those cheap jump scares and shit, but I’m down if you all are.”

A wave of assent passes over the group in general, but you notice Mark doesn’t immediately respond. You take this opportunity to lean in and confess your stance.

“If I have to sit around and watch a ghost pop out at me from a big-ass movie screen, you may never again see me in the same wonderful light you do today,” you warn. “Remember me as I am, not as I will be, Mark Lee.”

He snorts, coughing lightly as a mixture of ginger and fishcake sticks in his throat. “Yeah — we’ll pass, I think.”

“Scaredy-cat,” Donghyuck teases, and you’re surprised that Mark doesn’t come to his own defense. There’s something romantic in him not wanting to be the one to sell you out, but you suppose there’s also a kind of chivalry in being the one to take the bullet.

“Actually, I’m the one who can’t handle it well,” you smile in apology. “Sorry. I don’t have much of a reputation, so to speak, but what elegance may be attached to my name, however misplaced, is something I really want to maintain. At least until I graduate.”

“In short, you don’t want Mark to see you scream and cry,” Chenle deduces. You can’t even find fault in him figuring it out so quickly.

“Bingo.”

“Well, we can solve the problem,” Donghyuck claps his hands, getting everyone’s attention for no good reason. “__________, you sit beside me, and Mark can sit on the far end of the row. With how dark it is, he won’t see anything, and I get to sit next to a cute girl in a movie theater. Win-win.”

“Thanks for the offer,” you laugh, shaking your head. “But it’s not a win-win if I accidentally grab your hand out of instinct.”

“It is to me,” Donghyuck winks, and you feel Mark’s hand stop brushing over your stomach. His fingers curl in lightly, almost like he’s trying to make a fist but can’t quite get to that point out of personal restraint. “Or better yet, you could do what we all think you should do and dump Mark for someone you won’t be ashamed to cry in front of. I, for one, would not even bother to comment on whatever emotions you’re going through in the middle of a movie, so what do you say? It’s a pretty sweet deal, in my humble opinion. Me versus Mark Lee. The showdown of the century, right here in Hai Di Lao.”

You’ve noticed that the more Donghyuck piles onto his little teasing rampage, the more forcefully Mark tugs you over; his fingers aren’t just skimming over your skin but have now grown into the habit of gently pinching it, as if begging for your attention. It feels nice but also a little urgent, although it’s hard for you to understand why; the whole foundation of this group is built on teasing each other until someone (Chenle) snaps and lobs a bottle cap at someone else (Donghyuck), so it should be normal for Mark to be at the receiving end of some light banter.

“Should we ask the hostess to referee the match, then?” You ride along with the joke.

“No way. You’re the one calling the shots.” Donghyuck sits up a little straighter, putting on a smug face. “Okay, pick, __________. Me or Mark; who’s got the better punches?”

You make a show of acting thoughtful, even tapping your chin to pretend considering it deeply, but there was never any doubt on your choice. Still, you can’t really decipher the sudden slowness, the light tremble in Mark’s palm as it travels to your hip, where it settles, heavy, over the curve.

“It’s a complete knock-out,” you finally announce, grinning. “Championship belt goes to Mark.”

“Man, if I had a girlfriend as straight-shooting about her feelings for me as you are about your feelings for Mark, I’d propose in a day, max,” Jeno groans, half-exasperated and half-amused all at once.

“Man must’ve saved a nation or something in his past life,” Donghyuck grimaces. “No way he deserves a girl this hot and crazy about him. Hey — got any tips on stopping natural disasters or something? I could use a sexy, loyal girlfriend in my next life. Or maybe I’ll just poach yours in this one and see what it feels like.”

“I would actually deck you, so don’t even try it,” Mark snorts, his arm now winding full around your waist. You’re flush against his side, and he uses this opportunity to do something he doesn’t often do in front of his friends: show explicit affection by pressing a light kiss just behind your ear. It tickles, his breath grazing your earlobe, and you giggle, squirming in his hold. All he does is smile and pull you in tighter.

The bill’s split eight ways, but Mark’s fishing out cash to pay for your share even before you can get your wallet out from the bottom of your bag; it’s one of those quick, instinctive moves he likes to use on you, where he pushes the money and sends the bill back to the staff before you can even protest in full, so you have to settle on thanking him by returning the earlier favor — landing a peck on his cheek, which flushes a warm and contented pink the moment your lips make contact.

You just pointedly ignore the snickers that run around the table, particularly from Donghyuck and Jaemin.

The group splits ways at the front of the school dorms; most of them head in after their goodbyes, while Chenle backtracks towards his apartment building off-campus, mumbling something about how he hopes his roommate’s in because he accidentally left his key in the bowl next to their doorway. Mark should be piling in with the rest into the dorms, but he has a habit of insisting that he take you to the subway station; you’ve long since given up on convincing him against tagging along, mostly because he looks slightly hurt whenever you try to get him to stay put. You’re not going to complain anyway; for as much as you like being around Mark’s friends, it’s even better when you have this little slice of alone time despite the hassle it brings him.

Your fingers are linked when you walk under the street lights, the campus road leading to the station entrance significantly less busy at this time of evening; it’s cool enough for you to have an excuse to press yourself into Mark’s form, and he accepts this additional burden with an immense amount of grace, his arm finding its way around you again. Two minutes later, his palm is pressed against your bare skin once more, rubbing small, gentle circles just above your pelvis.

A part of you wonders if you’ll be able to do this — lean in, flush against him — when the summer heat starts to stick, but rather than really worrying about the logistics, you realize you’re more hung up on the idea of spending this summer with him.

“Sorry,” Mark murmurs out of the blue. Your eyebrows shoot up, and he looks down at you sheepishly. “Isn’t hanging out with my friends kind of driving you crazy?”

You hum in thought before shaking your head in resolution. “Not really. Not in a bad way, at least. I like how close you guys all are — and how big the group is. It’s usually just Yeji and Jisu with me, and they’re definitely not as rowdy. The change of pace is pretty fun.”

“Yeji and Jisu,” he echoes. “Your best friends. I haven’t met them yet, have I?”

“Not yet. Jisu started a part-time job across town, so we can’t get our schedules to align right just yet.” Your hip collides gently with his. “Should I let you, though?”

“One day… I think it would be nice to hang out with a less migraine-inducing crowd for a change.”

“I’ll tell them, then. They want to meet you.” You crane your neck up slightly, lowering your voice into a hushed whisper that’s completely unnecessary. “They want to know if you’re as cute as you look in your pictures.”

Mark draws back, laughing incredulously. “How do they know what my pictures look like?”

“I stalked your Instagram and showed them,” you answer simply. He throws you a funny look that’s equal parts disbelief and amusement. “They liked that one with the Spider-man costume.”

“Please don’t,” he groans, passing a hand over his face. “I should have taken that down, but I didn’t think anyone would care.”

“Why? I like it.” Your hand’s the one that manages to slip under his sweater this time, fingers trailing down his stomach; you feel him suck it in for a second in surprise before he lets out an exhale.

“I can’t ever understand what’s going through your head,” he chuckles, and you think it’s unfair that he manages to extract your hand from under the fabric while his is still firmly pressed against the side of your stomach. “You saw that and still wanted to date me?”

“Mark Lee, you simply underestimate how much I adore you. It’s kind of hurting my feelings at this rate.”

You’re just a few inches shy of the circle of light cast by the subway station sign. Your feet try to bring you forward, but Mark lingers behind, just outside the curve of soft white on the pavement, and his hand slips from under your shirt. You turn, and his hand skims down your arm instead, fingers locking around your wrist. With the slight distance between you, it looks like you’re caught in motion.

“I still can’t wrap my head around it sometimes.”

“What?”

“I just look over at you and feel like it’s not real. Like you’re going to disappear, and I’m just going to wake up from a dream and see you the next day, just some other stranger who doesn’t even know my name.” He licks his lips, and you want to reach out and kiss him already, but you know he isn’t done talking. “And I’m going to remember how much I liked you in that dream, but you won’t ever feel that same way.”

“You know I’m right here, though, don’t you?” Your fingers mimic his, squeezing around his wrist. “You can feel me. I’m here with you.”

Hesitation flashes across his face even when he nods, and you notice his eyes flit down to his shoes before looking back up at you — a habit of avoidance you know he’s trying to correct. “Sometimes I have to wonder if they’re right.”

“If… who’s right?”

“Them.” He jerks his thumb back in the general direction of the school dorms. “The guys. You know — when they ask me how I got a girl like you… the truth is, I don’t even really know. They can’t believe it, and it’s so crazy to me that I still sometimes can’t myself. So I start wondering if—”

You don’t let him finish this time; it’s rude to interrupt, you know, but you also know that what he’s about to say is probably something neither of you wants to hear anyway. Your lips connect with his, firm and demanding, and his words die in his throat, melting into a soft groan that vibrates against your skin. When you pull away, you don’t create the same distance, and Mark’s hands find their way to your waist, slightly trembling.

“They’re wrong,” you murmur, a quiet strength in your voice. “So stop wondering and just be with me.”

A smile starts tugging on the corners of his mouth, and the next moment, he’s nodding in assent, in wholehearted agreement, and the next kiss you share is one he starts, far more gentle than earlier.

“Next time I catch you entertaining nonsensical thoughts, there’ll be consequences.”

“Are you threatening me?” His laugh is colored with incredulity.

“Yes.” Your tone is firm, but your grin gives away too much of the jest. “Maybe I’ll ground you for a week, or something really childish.”

“I’d take it if you were with me.”

“That’s not how it works,” you snort, gently flicking the tip of his nose. He scrunches it on impact. “You’d be in solitary. You must reflect on your actions and all that nonsense. Meanwhile, I’ll be out having some good hotpot with everyone else.”

“If that happens, promise me one thing, then.” He maneuvers your stance until you’re both back in the blanket of darkness, just out of reach of the subway entrance. “Don’t sit next to Donghyuck.”

“And let him and Chenle give me an earful about how bad-slash-good the first Human Centipede movie was all over again? I think not.”

“No, really.” Mark buries his face into your neck, and you hear the quiet inhale as he breathes in your scent. On instinct, your hand comes up to thread through his hair, nails gently scratching at his scalp. “I don’t want you sitting there and hearing him talk your ear off about how much I don’t deserve you or that he’ll help you find someone better.”

“You know he’s just joking — and I’m just joking, right?”

“Just promise me.”

You pause, wondering if it’s in your best interest to tease him for whatever act he’s pulling, but there’s a shortness to his breathing that makes the whole situation feel weirdly tense. He’s really waiting for something — an answer. The right answer, maybe.

“I promise,” you finally say, and you know you’ve said the correct thing when Mark’s lips press a soft kiss to your collarbone, like he’s sealing in your vow.

On the third time, Mark pretty much gives up.

The strangest thing is that it starts at a time when you’re not even actually together; if you had to pinpoint the exact moment, it probably had to be when Donghyuck had walked you to the dorm from library. No — maybe even before that. Somewhere in the time you’d spent in there, he’d thought up yet another way to push Mark’s buttons. You just didn’t really know the exact minute he’d first seen you with Jung Jaehyun.

You don’t know how Jaehyun does it; he skips half his classes and somehow doesn’t even get in trouble, let alone fail. You’d only met him last semester, but he was just about the only person who was halfway familiar in your Anthropology 120 class, so you thought you could at least feel comfortable enough to chat with him about the weather or what had happened in the last meeting. You don’t expect him to strong-arm you into being something of a literal proxy for him; the first week of the semester, you’d spend almost each lecture period gnawing on your nails and fretting over the fact that your signature for attendance looked nothing like his. By the second week, you’d already come to realize that it doesn’t matter because he had only attended one lecture — the first one — thus far and your professor was as clueless about Jaehyun’s handwriting as you. By the fourth week, you had resigned yourself to being his slightly unwilling associate for his random escapades, allowing him to copy off your notes and turning in his homework for him.

Now that you think about it, that’s probably how he does it.

You sacrifice your free time for him today, caged up in a library for pretty much the afternoon. You can’t help but resent him, not just because the whole room is stuffy and the librarian keeps passing by, clucking to remind people not to litter between shelves, but also because you’d much rather do things that are important to you — like pretending to flirt with Mark for the first time when you place your order and watching him act like it’s the first time you’re saying something so sweet to him, except he’s definitely not pretending. Instead of watching Mark’s face color that cute shade of pink and that sweet little smile pull at his mouth until he’s basically biting his lips back to stop himself from grinning, you have to bore yourself with the sight of Jaehyun trying to decipher your handwriting.

“You should really be more legible with your strokes.” He has the audacity to chastise you as if he’s the one doing you a favor by giving you constructive criticism.

“You should really come to class more often,” you bite back, although there’s no real heat to your words. You just look out the window and watch the sun sink down behind the university hospital building, wondering if there’s a chance you’ll still be able to catch Mark before his shift ends.

“Would if I could.”

“You actually fucking can,” you say tiredly, and even the way he turns the page is so impossibly slow. “Can’t you just take a picture?”

“Nah; writing it down carefully really helps my retention of this kind of stuff.”

“So take a picture and then write it down carefully.”

“With your ridiculous handwriting? I’d probably fail.”

“So come to class and write it yourself!”

Your hiss increases in pitch, and it calls the attention of the librarian over to you. She swoops in, clicking her tongue, but she’s not even looking at you. Her eyes are zoned in on Jaehyun, who meets her gaze with so much innocence it’s hard to imagine you’d wanted to smack him two minutes ago.

“Jung Jaehyun,” the librarian snaps in an undertone. The slow, punctuated way she says his name suggests she knows him fairly well — and not in a great way. “I see you’re back in here after your probationary period.”

“Sorry for the trouble, Mrs. Park.” He grins up at her, looking anything but apologetic. “I promise I won’t get in your way again today.”

“And this one—” She points to you, and you point to yourself in shock at being pointed to, and Jaehyun’s pointing at you and mouthing ‘this one’ with excessive mirth in his eyes. “Isn’t another one of those girls you plan on defiling my sacred space with?”

Jaehyun says ‘we didn’t defile anything’ at the same time you say I’m going to throw up, and the librarian just adds to the noise by shushing you on top of that jumble of words.

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you two,” Mrs. Park warns before stalking away, tutting at a library assistant for wrongly shelving a volume of Encyclopedia Brittanica.

“Please, Jaehyun,” you groan, crossing your arms over the table and flattening your forehead against them. “Just hurry up. Release me.”

He ignores you, still leaning closer to your notebook to decipher your handwriting. “I would like to set the record straight and make it known I didn’t fuck anyone in the library.”

“What’d you get probation for, then?”

“Just making out.” You notice he has the energy to grin wickedly even without meeting your eye, even while he’s still scrawling on his own notebook, and you groan something incoherent and irate once again. “What are you in such a big hurry for, anyway?”

“Has it ever occurred to you,” you grumble, raising your head. “That some people might want to do better things than sit here and watch you write stuff for ages?”

“No,” comes his simple reply. You bop your head onto your arms a few times in the hope that the impact will shake you out of this nightmare and you’d find yourself waking up in Mark’s arms instead, but you have no such luck. “By better things, do you mean fucking Mark Lee in someone else’s bedroom? That’s real defilement, by the way.”

“How’d you hear about that?” You squeeze your eyes shut and growl under your breath. “Fucking Youngho.”

“You doing that too?”

“Shut — please, would you hurry?”

He pointedly purses his lips in an effort to keep himself from letting out what you can only assume is, by the glint in his eyes, a witch’s cackle. “Almost done, man. Relax a bit. So did you guys get together — like, together together?”

You initially contemplate not telling him, but Jaehyun’s nosiness is probably going to reveal the truth to him sooner or later anyway. “Yeah. What’s it to you, though?”

“Nothing. You’re lucky.”

For the first time today, you feel like Jaehyun has finally said something right. “Yeah — yeah, I am.”

“I bet his friends don’t seem to think so.”

“Is this something you know because it’s a guy thing or because you’re so nosy that you just can’t help but listen in on every other juicy conversation around you?”

“A bit of both,” he chuckles. “Mostly just because I know Lee Donghyuck was giving him a hard time about it last semester.”

“I noticed that too — a bit, anyway. But it’s just banter, I think.”

“Probably. Imagine being his friend and getting a girlfriend; it’s like… the perfect ammunition for teasing. But I’m pretty sure half of the things that come out of his mouth are jokes meant to annoy.”

“What about yours?”

“I get it,” he sighs, shutting your notebook resolutely. It makes a thud that alerts the librarian two tables away, and she glares at you like you’re climbing onto Jaehyun’s lap in the middle of the References on the Korean War aisle. “I’ll set you free. Thanks, by the way, for letting me copy from you. Same time next week?”

“Or how about you look up the schedules for our classes and actually come instead of piggybacking off of my efforts and making snarky remarks about my handwriting while you’re taking advantage of my goodwill?”

“Sounds like too much effort on my end,” he yawns, waving you off as you stuff your notebook into your bag. “Later, ___________. Say hi to Mark for me. The normal way — not the girlfriend way, please.”

You stick your tongue out at him before you make a mad dash for the door, ignoring Mrs. Park as she shushes your footsteps on the marble. You’re so intent on fishing your phone out of your bag that you almost ram the door into the person standing behind it.

“Oh, fuck— Jesus, I’m sorry, I wa— wait, Donghyuck?”

“Great to see you too, ___________.” He rubs his jaw where the edge of the door grazed it. “You in a rush?”

“I was just about to go see if Mark was still at Starbucks.”

“His shift’s probably almost over. I’m headed back to the dorm if you wanna tag along.” When you nod, he starts leading the way, breaking the silence again soon after. “Were you in a study group, or something?”

“No,” you jerk your thumb backwards towards the minuscule form of Jaehyun, who’s now busy wasting time and space playing something on his phone where you’d left him. Donghyuck’s eyebrows shoot up. “He’s my classmate who never comes to class. I was just lending him my notes.”

“Oh, Jaehyun, yeah.” Donghyuck snaps his fingers. “We were classmates last semester. He never went to class either, but I don’t know who he mooched off of to pass. You guys close?”

“Not really. I just fell into the trap of being too nice to him.”

“It’s funny,” he hums, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Jaehyun seems more your speed. On paper, at least.”

You can’t help but look taken aback, and Donghyuck laughs at your expression. “What do you mean, my speed?”

“Not sure.” He pauses, trying to find the right words to explain himself. “Someone who’d fit more into your social circles. Someone who probably likes Formula One and considers men’s health magazines to be classic literature.”

“That’s your impression of my social circle?”

“You know what I mean. People like Jung Jaehyun or Seo Youngho. I literally thought you were dating him last semester, so it was totally crazy to hear you asked Mark out.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Like… you asked him out. Not even the other way around. That’s ridiculous.”

“Why?” You know he doesn’t mean anything bad by it; Donghyuck has next to no filter, and something about him being unable to process your relationship is honestly a little funny. “A girl can’t ask a guy out?”

(You try not to think too hard about the fact that up until you’d cornered him in Youngho’s room, you had been praying to whatever god could hear you to convince Mark Lee to do the romanticist thing and ask you out.)

“Nah, dude. Like… a girl like you asked a guy like him out.”

“I didn’t ask him out because he was a guy like that,” you say pointedly. “I asked him out because he was a guy I liked. I wouldn’t have asked anyone else out if it weren’t him.”

Donghyuck falls quiet for a while, and only the crunching of the leaves underfoot accompanies your walk. “You really like him that much, huh?”

“I’m crazy about him.” His nose scrunches up like he’s been hit with a horrible smell, and you laugh. “Can you stop giving him a hard time? Or tone it down? I know you probably don’t like it—”

Donghyuck’s chuckle is light and easy. “I’m not teasing him because I hate it; let’s be clear on that. I actually really like that you guys are together. I’ve never seen him this happy with anything or anyone.”

“Then why are you—”

“Because he’s Mark.” A devilish grin creeps up his features as he holds the door to the dorm lobby open for you. “And teasing him is my favorite thing to do.”

You shake your head; you can’t help your amusement, but you’re not sure you fully understand this kind of friendship. You suppose if Mark is okay with it in its totality, then there isn’t much you can say to change it either.

The next twenty minutes pass in comfortable back-and-forths; Donghyuck is, as you already have learned, an expert conversationalist, and while he doesn’t aggravate you the way he does Chenle, he does manage to navigate a quick-fire kind of exchange of thoughts and information that allows you to see the speed at which he thinks. There’s barely any lag between when he digests what you say and when he responds. You suppose there’s a measure of wit in that, but it’s also a little bemusing to see someone speak without at least running it through the conscience checker every once in a while. You decide you’ve never met anyone quite like Lee Donghyuck before.

He’s in the middle of asking you what the Anthropology professor is like because he’s planning on taking it as an elective if he can when you notice a familiar figure pushing into the lobby, backpack swinging on a folded elbow.

“Mark!” The brief confusion on his face morphs into a surprised joy when he spots you on the couch, even though a bit of it lingers upon recognizing that Donghyuck is seated next to you. He walks over in long strides, and your posture straightens to meet his palm as it comes down gently against the crown of your head again; it bumps lightly, causing the both of you to laugh.

“Hey, you.” His voice is warm and fond in its greeting, and you beam up at him. “Did you have a busy afternoon?”

“Unfortunately. Did you just get back from your shift?”

“I passed by the co-op to check out the new university letter jackets. Design’s pretty dope.” He nods towards the elevator. “You wanna head up for a little bit?” You almost get to respond before your companion cuts in instead.

“Hey. Can’t you see we’re having a riveting conversation over here?” Donghyuck sniffs, making a show of hitting Mark’s shin lightly with the heel of his shoe. “Have some respect.”

“Is the conversation so riveting that I can’t take my girl for the evening at all?”

You mouth out a no, but Donghyuck’s flair for dramatics has him humphing and shoving Mark’s hand away from your hair. “Yeah, man. At least let us finish up.”

“What’s this even about?”

“How Jung Jaehyun asked her out in the library today,” Donghyuck replies easily. You start, shaking your head immediately, but Mark’s jaw slackens a little upon hearing this. Donghyuck continues loudly over your protests, and you can’t keep your voice straight because you’re adamant and yet, somehow, still laughing incredulously in your shock. “Oh, dude, let me tell you. He had his arm around her like this — and he was giving her the bedroom eyes… I wouldn’t have blamed her if she folded, honestly.”

“Mark, no,” your stupid gasp comes out as half a giggle as a result of Donghyuck trying to reenact his imaginary scenario. He’s slung his arm across your shoulders and pulled himself in, doing his best expression of a pleading dog’s gaze, which is both perplexing and hilarious. “He’s just kidding—”

“Then he got all close like this—” Donghyuck presses his forehead against yours, and the view he allows himself blocks him from having to look at Mark. You, on the other hand, are still trying to resist a misunderstanding, your palms up and every part of your body that can move shaking vehemently, but you can see Mark’s face turn a violent shade of red you can’t remember having seen from him before. “Spoke all low — you remember he had that sexy, husky voice, right? ”

“He’s just messing with you,” you wheeze out, trying to extract yourself from Donghyuck’s hold, but he only tightens his arm around your neck, almost to the point where you can’t inhale properly.

“And he said ‘you’re the hottest chick I’ve ever seen—’ then you know what he did, Markie?”

Mark doesn’t respond; you’re not even sure if he can, considering his Adam’s apple is bobbing dangerously like he’s one misstep away from exploding. You laugh again, stupidly, because you don’t know what else to do; you know Donghyuck’s teasing him, and you know Mark usually takes it in stride, but you’ve also never seen the latter look so focused on anything that didn’t involve a math problem or eating you out. “No, really, nothing hap—”

You don’t even have the space to finish your sentence. Donghyuck’s too quick when he grabs your face and plants a comedically sloppy kiss on your cheek, bursting out in laughter when he pulls away. You can only sit there, probably as stunned as Mark looks, raising your hand slowly to wipe the spittle Donghyuck left behind in his wake.

“Oh, Jesus,” Donghyuck rasps out between snorts. “Your face is priceless, man.”

“Not funny,” Mark grumbles, and there’s a hoarseness to his voice that makes you feel like it’s barely controlled.

“Also not true. I just bumped into her on the way from the library. We were talking about one of her classes or whatever.” Donghyuck dramatically wipes the tears from his eyes, and you sigh, nudging him. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t resist. Man, don’t even worry. She’s downright crazy about you. Even if Jung Jaehyun had asked her out—”

“Anyway.” Mark reaches down, lacing your fingers together, pulling you up and closer to his side like he’s worried you’ll catch Donghyuck’s crazy. “If that’s all of it…”

“Yeah, yeah. You two lovebirds go moon over each other already. I just love seeing your face like that.”

Mark snorts, yanking on Donghyuck’s earlobe punitively, and the latter cries out sharply (and a little exaggeratedly) at the pain. Mark doesn’t even seem to care; he leads you to the elevator and punches in his floor. You barely have time to call out a belated ‘bye’ to Donghyuck, who acknowledges it with a raise of his palm, before the doors slide shut.

It’s a slow elevator, given that it’s an old building, and the first couple of floors pass without much noise between the two of you. You’re not unaware of how tight Mark’s grip is on your hand, but you don’t comment nor take it against him. By the fourth floor, you’re raising his hand up to your lips and pressing a kiss against his knuckles.

“Nothing happened.” You confirm his unasked question, and you see a modicum of tension leave his shoulders. “He was just messing with you because he thinks it’s funny.”

“Yeah, I know.” Even if he says it like that, there’s still lingering doubt in his voice. “Were you with Jung Jaehyun today, though? Is that why you didn’t show up?”

You nod. “He was copying my notes for Anthropology. Guy barely shows up to lectures, so he borrows my stuff. I can’t believe he hasn’t been suspended yet. Or punched in the face by the people he leeches off of.”

“No kidding.”

You step out on the sixth floor with him. Even if you already know where Mark’s dorm is, you let him lead the way, and he ushers you into an empty and dimly lit living space while taking his shoes off. His roommate barely seems to be around; you’ve seen him all of two times, and it doesn’t look like he’s here either right now. You pause anyway, listening to any signs of life just to be sure, but when you both confirm that there’s no one but the two of you, you busy yourselves with turning on the lights and plugging in the water dispenser.

You work in relative silence; it isn’t anything unusual since you’ve done this a million times, and you’ve come to learn that small talk isn’t necessary when you’re just washing your hands or opening the refrigerator aimlessly even if you know you both plan on ordering in. But there’s a weird aura around Mark that you’re not sure how to place; he doesn’t seem like he’s mad, but there definitely seems to be something off — a problem, at least, that you’re not sure you know how to ask about.

So you just try to diffuse whatever it is by completely ignoring it.

“Pizza or Chinese?” You ask, flopping onto the couch as he plugs the television into the outlet. He looks up at you, and you notice his eyes are slightly dazed, like you’ve just woken him up from a dream. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice is hoarse the first time he says it, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, sorry.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“We just had pizza, so I’m thinking Chinese is the better option. Cream shrimp? Fried rice? Not the salted fish one, though, maybe.”

You hum in assent, but when he straightens up from behind the television, you extend your arm to him, attempting to clarify yourself. “I mean, what are you thinking so hard about?”

“Nothing.” His answer’s a little too quick. A moment of awkward silence passes where you telepathically tell him you know he’s lying and he has to come to terms with his horrible lying skills, and he sighs, crossing over to the couch and settling beside you. Immediately, he tangles your fingers together, belatedly returning the favor from the elevator and brushing his lips across your knuckles. “He didn’t ask you out, right?”

You know he knows the truth, so you decide to bat your own question back at him in an attempt at rhetoric. “What would it matter if he did? The answer would have been the same, real or imagined.”

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly. There’s a red flush on his neck that’s only started fading, it seems. You reach out and skim your finger along the vein that runs down the side of his throat. “I know. I don’t like it all the same. I hate… even thinking about it, actually.”

“Really — nothing happened. If you don’t count the fact that I almost strangled him for keeping me there — which I’m sure you’d agree doesn’t count as anything in favor of him.”

“I heard Jung Jaehyun’s kind of a playboy.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” His head lolls to the side, and his eyes hold a sadness that pulls at your heart. “It means he really could have made a pass at you. Or you could have — I don’t know. In the end… I just worry.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Your lower lip juts out, and his eyes widen slightly, his head shaking before his mouth can even work out a proper response.

“No — I mean, yes, absolutely. It’s — I mean, it’s just—” He inhales again to gather his wits, two fingers still rubbing his forehead. “I trust you, without a doubt. I don’t trust other people — not around you. Not Jaehyun, or Youngho, or—”

“Or Donghyuck?” You smile a little apologetically at his embarrassment, clear on his face when his eyes stray from yours. “Mark, you know he’s only messing with you, right? I thought it was a funny thing for you guys.”

“It’s not funny if it’s about you,” he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He looks up at you again, chewing on his bottom lip. “I know. I’m trying to control it. Sometimes… I don’t know why it gets under my skin. I guess it’s because it could happen — you… finding someone else. I kind of hate the thought of that.”

“And if I said I hate it even more than you?”

His gaze softens, something like relief passing over his features, but the rest of his body still holds a significant amount of tension; you know by the way he’s running agitated circles on the back of your hand. You gently tug on his arm, allowing yourself to use it as an anchor to shift your weight. Mark makes a soft noise of inquiry but says nothing more, waiting until you’ve maneuvered your body to settle on his lap.

The view is reminiscent, and you can see that the core memory you share flashes through his mind too. A small smile, still somewhat reluctant, plays on Mark’s lips, and you hate that it’s all you get right now, so you rectify this by leaning down and leaving a small, chaste kiss on them. You pull away much too soon, and his head follows in response to the distance, chasing your lips until you’re realistically too far to reach. His arm extends instead, swiftly tucking your hair behind your ear.

Your fingers close around his wrist, and your head turns, continuing the kiss against his palm — short and firm.

“Stop doing that.”

His eyebrows fly upward in questioning, his other hand freezing in its trail up your thighs. Even his breath seems to catch, and what’s left of it comes out as a raspy whisper. “Stop being jealous? I’m… I’m trying.”

You shake your head. “Stop being sexy when you’re jealous.”

The ‘what’ he seems to want to ask dies in his throat, his mouth only able to form half of the word before you interrupt, your lips taking in the rest of the syllable. When you kiss him this time, there’s a slow hunger to it; your teeth find his lower lip even before he’s able to get into the rhythm of kissing you back. You just want him to know — everything about him drives you wild, even when he doesn’t know it.

You’ll never grow sick of the taste of him, you’re sure; today, he tastes even more enticing, the hint of something rich mixing in with the stronger flavor of coffee on his tongue. It’s familiar and comforting, and it’s only when you break away, both your faces flushed from a prolonged lack of air, that you puzzle out what the taste is — the lingering aftermath of a vanilla sweet cream cold brew, one he must have prepared in anticipation of you this afternoon.

You briefly squeeze your eyes shut and thank whoever’s listening for the gift of Mark Lee.

“Mark,” your murmur, your voice much softer, intent on coaxing him into releasing his worries. “You know, right?”

His ‘hm’ is only half-there in focus, the rest of his attention on his hands, which have found their way to your ass and have started digging his fingers into the flesh beyond your jeans. You have to tilt his head up with one finger under his chin, and there’s a whirlpool of emotion in them: curiosity, desire, and, interestingly, a quiet, almost suppressed kind of anger.

“If it isn’t you,” you whisper. “Then there’s nobody else.”

You see his jaw tighten, feel his grip against you do the same, and his brow furrows, like he’s trying — much too hard, and for no good reason — to stop himself from tipping over. You don’t like that either; if he’s there, you think, you should take him over the edge.

“But if you want them to know so badly, then…” You tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck, bringing the expanse just a little closer to his mouth. “Why don’t you go ahead and put your claim on me?”

You swear you see his pupils dilate right before he presses his mouth to your skin. With a low, almost pained groan against your neck, he latches his teeth in lightly, and you feel the soft sting, the increase in pressure the moment he starts sucking a mark just above your collarbone. There’s a wet, messy pattern to his movements, always punctuated by the sweep of his tongue to soothe your flesh. Even with that, his movements are slow and careful, still gentle in the way he’s handling you, but you feel it anyway — all of his tension’s concentrated in his grip, the way he keeps you close, hips pinned against him as if he’s worried anything less will cause you to disappear.

“Every time you worry, remember you can do this.” You pause, your breath catching in a lilt as his teeth dig in a little more fiercely. “You’re the only one that can.”

His lips detach with a soft groan, fingers squeezing your ass tight for a moment. Warm breath cools against the damp patch on your neck, and a second later, you feel his mouth graze against the few inches of skin, sensitive and slightly raw. “I know. It’s just not fair.”

You hum in questioning, but he doesn’t answer immediately; his mouth busies itself just under the mark he’d surely left, already starting up the same routine. You’d let him, and you want him to, but you want to hear his voice more. Your fingers tangle into his hair, and you use that hold to ease his head back, urging him to look up at you. It’s almost a mistake, seeing him like that — lips slightly swollen and definitely slick with his own saliva, parted just a little to reveal teeth he’d been desperate to nip your flesh with again. It crosses your mind that Mark has a mouth made for kissing — no, that isn’t accurate.

A mouth made for you to kiss.

“What’s not fair?” You ask softly. Even now, he takes his time in answering, his eyes falling close for a second; you watch him swallow, lick his lips, breathe in before he speaks, and all of those mundane things he does somehow make you lose your mind all the more.

“How badly I keep wanting you,” he breathes out, his eyes slowly opening. “And how it makes me think everyone wants you just as much.”

His hands leave the curve of your ass, traveling up your shirt, resting against your sides. He holds you like he’s careful in trying not to break you, his fingers spread wide to make sure his thumbs almost meet against your stomach, but there’s a smoldering headiness in his gaze that tells you he’s thinking a little too hard about wanting to break you.

“I touch you like this, and I think that everyone would kill to do the same.” His fingers squeeze against your flesh, inching upwards until they rest just under your breasts; his thumbs stroke the curved underline of your bra. “I think about kissing you and it feels like everyone’s thinking it at the exact same time. I look at someone next to you, even if you don’t know them, and I wonder if they want to pull you close, if they want to feel you against them just as much as I do. When I—”

He inhales sharply between his words, and the exhale comes out somewhat shaky. For a moment, he grits his teeth, jaw flexing in an attempt to keep himself in check. You worry he doesn’t want to continue — doesn’t want to let you hear it, but it feels so important that you can’t let it go. “Tell me.”

“When I think about fucking you,” he breathes out, voice barely audible. “Whenever I look at you and think about how much I want to feel you around me, feel you cum around me… I just know everyone else wants the same thing, and it’s driving me crazy because… because they can’t.”

It’s there again, flashing in his eyes — a determination that reads almost like fury.

“They can’t,” he repeats, his voice firmer. “I won’t ever let them. Never.”

You don’t stop him this time when his mouth reclaims your skin. You let his thoughts fuel the need in his movements, allow yourself to move only in reaction to what he does — the tilting of your head to give him more room, the tightening of your fists against his shirt to keep yourself steady. A surprised mewl leaves you when you feel his teeth pinch against your flesh again, and it’s harder, sharper this time, his quiet anger finally dictating his strength. You grapple for words, but they come out in weak gasps.

“It doesn’t — doesn’t matter,” you manage to whimper out. “How many people think that way, how much they want me that way. I only ever want you.”

His breathing is caught, warm, in the pocket of space just between you and his mouth; it tingles against your skin, tickles your senses into heightening. Your fingers unfurl, pressing against his chest, and you can feel his quickened heartbeat thrumming under your palm.

“God, please,” he murmurs, the soft peck of a kiss landing against your collarbone. “Please, tell me.”

“Mark, I’m yours.” There’s no teasing in how you say it; it was never meant to rile him up. It even escapes sweetness, the romanticism it usually comes with when you remind him on any other occasion. This is a promise to him, something you’re reinforcing as fact, something that can’t ever change. “I’m always going to be yours — no one else’s. I’ll never let anyone have anything that’s yours. Ask anything, take everything you want. I’ll never say no to you. Only you — always you.”

You know something’s different in a number of ways; his arms circle around you, but instead of keeping you firm and stable in his lap, they’re tight, squeezing a whine out of you, holding your torso flush against his. His face never leaves the crook of your neck, but you hear — feel — something there — a soft growl of need, of frustration that begs release. Suddenly, you find yourself off the couch; you barely have the presence of mind to wrap your arms around his neck and tighten your thighs against his sides before he’s carrying you to his room, kicking the door open and letting the rebound of the impact against his wall slam it shut behind him.

You’ve been in Mark’s room before, so there’s absolutely no need for you to take in the scenery when he sets you down on his bed. It doesn’t matter anyway, even if this were your first time; Mark’s crawling over you, his face flush and eyes sharp with hunger, and he looks so enticing that you wouldn’t want to pay attention to anything else around you anyway. His limbs cage you in, arms on either side of your shoulders and his knees just by your thighs, and you don’t really know why he’s already panting, but it just makes you want him all the more.

“Never,” he groans out, leaning down to nose against the patch of skin his mouth had worked on. “I’m never going to let anyone take you, ever. You’re all mine.”

His name fades on your lips, carried away by a moan when his mouth reattaches itself to your neck; it moves, almost frenzied, to renew the mark he’d left, make it a deeper red, a slightly bruised purple. You’re usually careful not to do anything that will require any attention or cover-up after, but Mark seems a little too far gone to care, and you realize you like him best this way.

Even with all the attention he gives your neck, his fingers are busy; they work on the button of your jeans, sliding them down with the help you offer by raising your hips. They only reach halfway down your thighs, his reluctance to come back up for air stopping him from peeling them off completely, but it’s all he seems to need for now.

Eager fingers ease between your thighs, two at once, pressing against your folds. You’re unable to spread your legs like you usually do, but this tightness makes you all the more sensitive, and you keen as his digits fit themselves into your slit. Frustratingly, they don’t move right away, and you have to raise your hips again just to get some sort of friction. Even then, Mark doesn’t take the hint — or, perhaps, the bait — keeping a light pressure against your clit without doing anything else. His focus is still on your neck, now slightly aching under his lips, and when he finally pulls away, you see a look of triumph on his face. He tilts his head back slightly to admire his work — the blooming dark patch you’re sure he’s left where your skin tingles the most.

“If I said I wanted to mark you all over, would you let me?”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t ask for it?”

He chuckles, tightening the pressure of his fingers against your clit; you say something that sounds halfway between ‘Mark’ and a sob.

“I want to, so badly.” He admits, gaze still fixed on your neck. “I’d want to see you walk out of here, walk into class covered in them. I’d want people to ask you how you got them, and who gave them to you. And I’d want you to say it proudly — that it was me who did it. That I fucked you all night and made you mine over and over again.”

“Why don’t you?” His eyes snap up to you, a small smile forming on his lips. “I want to say that too. Let me brag about having you. Let me tell everyone how good you always make me feel. Then you can tell everyone who doesn’t believe you, too — how I let you take me every single time. Show me off and tell them to look at how you made me yours.”

Another laugh escapes him, but there’s more disbelief than humor in it; he seems to find it amazing, that you can just agree with what he says, no matter how strange he thinks it is.

“Show you off? If I mark you in other places, do I have to show them every part?”

“Do you not want to?”

“I want to, and I don’t.” He pauses, slightly amused, and you know he’s remembering the first time you fucked. “I don’t them to see your body, but I want them to see what I did to it. I don’t want them to look at what’s mine, but I just want them to know it is.”

“Then you can fuck me in front of everyone and make them watch you ruin me completely.”

He shakes his head, even if desire flashes clear across his features. He busies himself with actions while he mulls it over, tugging your jeans down alongside your panties and casting them aside before he straightens up. His eyes rake over your form; you’re bare from the waist down, your shirt halfway ridden up, the underside of your bra peeking out from under the hem. Again, his eyes land on your neck, and his smile widens slightly.

“Can’t.” He decides finally. “You’re too pretty for that.”

You hum thoughtfully, and he raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t move, even when you sit up, shifting yourself so you can tuck your calves under your thighs — not even when you reach out to undo his belt or tug down his zipper. He only reacts a little when your hand presses against his hardness through his boxers, the girth now easily familiar to your palm.

“What about something like this?” You ask, inching closer to the edge of the bed. You’ve started slow strokes against him, the fabric creating extra friction, more heat under your palm, and you watch his jaw clench as he swallows back a soft grunt. “Would you let them watch me do this for you?”

“Let me think about it,” he chuckles softly, and you nod, letting your fingers work to make your point. You don’t have to undress him completely to get what you want; all you need is to tug down the front of his boxers to free him, and you already have him wrapped in your palms, stroking his shaft to full hardness.

“Think faster,” you urge, and he shakes his head, slightly bemused. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t even want them to watch me jerk you off?”

“At least give me a full minute.”

You laugh lightly, whispering a ‘fine’ before you press a soft kiss against tip. He inhales sharp through his teeth, already sensitive, and you waste no time in letting your tongue flick out against the smooth head. He doesn’t need the lubrication, realistically; his precum’s already leaking from the tip, mixing in with your saliva as you run your tongue around it. All you do is make him a little messier, a little slicker, your spittle running down his length.

Taking Mark in your mouth is a demanding task, but one you’re always up for; there’s something uniquely satisfying about letting him fill your mouth, inch by inch, and watching his breathing hitch and stutter until your lips are closer to the base than to the head. What you can’t reach, your hand always squeezes around, eager to make sure he feels good completely. His expression is sublime when you draw your head back the first time, sucking as you do so — his eyes are half-lidded, and he doesn’t stop the moan that falls from his lips. His gaze is fixed on you, hazy but still able to drink the sight of you in, and you’re not sure how, but you almost feel like you could get off to watching him watch you taste him.

You try, somehow, vaguely conscious of the movement of your hips; you’re grinding at nothing at first, so your knees give way just enough for you to press yourself against his sheets. It’s slightly uncomfortable, a strain in your thighs that you’re not really used to, but you don’t care; Mark’s sharp inhale at seeing you attempt to grind your pussy against his mattress is pretty much as arousing as anything else. His cock twitches hard in your mouth, and you suck just a little harder, a little messier, your head bobbing down to meet your hand, still firmly wrapped around his girth.

The room’s filled with nothing but slick sounds and soft groans; Mark’s hand has found its way into your hair, tangled into a makeshift ponytail, and while he isn’t guiding your mouth to do anything, you can feel his hips stutter then start to move, pulling back when your head does. He tries to hide it, tries to keep himself steady, but pride blooms in your chest when you note that he can’t; he wants to feel like he’s fucking into your mouth, into your hand, the way he does when he takes your pussy.

It’s relatively quiet for that time, nothing but muffled moans from you that mix in with his noises, but you only realize you’d been waiting for an answer to something when he speaks up again.

“It’s… still a no for me.”

Your movements slow, your gaze lifting to communicate your mild confusion to him. You don’t want to ask; you just don’t want to lose the taste of him on your tongue just yet. He looks down at you, smiling with overflowing tenderness, almost like he’s apologetic.

“Even just this — you’re too pretty when you do it.” His hand reaches down, thumb stroking over your cheek. “I can’t let anyone see what you look like when you’re like this. They’ll keep thinking about you doing it for them. And you’d only do it for me — right?”

You nod immediately, your response causing your mouth to slip down his shaft just a little more. It elicits a guttural noise from him, one that fuels you into sucking him just a little harder, your enthusiasm overtaking your restraint. His fingers have let go of your hair, stroking it back into smoothness, almost comforting in their movements.

“God, I wish you could see yourself; you’d know what I mean,” he continues to murmur, his voice just a little louder over the eager, wet noises you’re making. “How pretty you look with your mouth wrapped around me. How perfect you are when you’re kneeling like this for me — how happy you look when you’re sucking me off. I can’t share that with anyone. Fuck — not ever.”

Your mouth draws back, completely this time, and your tongue presses against the underside of his cock. You lick a long stripe up his shaft, moaning softly at the light throb you feel, and you watch him tip his head back. The groan that follows soon after is almost close to a frustrated growl, ending in a whispered ‘shit’ before his eyes land back on you. He watches you press kiss after kiss against his tip, coaxing the precum out even more, and you take special care to leave more down each inch of his cock until you’re finally able to release your hold on his base so you can leave the last one there.

His hand combs your hair back before it falls to cup your chin, his thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to gently clean up the froth of spittle there. You smile up at him in thanks, and his thumb sweeps over the seam of your lips to follow the slight curve.

“So pretty,” he repeats, and your cheeks glow pink under the palms that caress them. He leans down, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Pretty as hell, fucking perfect — and you’re all mine.”

You kneel up again, chasing his lips with your own, and he locks you in his arms as his tongue slips its way past your teeth, the aroma of coffee still on it. He leaves today’s taste of him against your tongue, on the ridges of your teeth, until you feel like you’ve all but consumed him, and you whimper softly when he pulls away, urging you to turn around and lean back into his chest.

His mouth reattaches itself to the same spot; it’s like a home base for him, and he breathes in your scent from there before giving the same patch of skin a light suck, almost as if he’s worried it’ll fade in a few minutes’ time if he doesn’t give it attention.

“Show me.” Hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them lightly, like a prompt for your response. “Show me how pretty you are for me.”

His palms never leave you, not even when you detach yourself from his chest and bend down; your elbows meet the mattress, but your hips stay raised, giving him a view of your pussy. Your gasp easily turns into a moan when his digit dips into your wetness again, his other hand pushing gently at your asscheek to keep you open.

You think he’s about to slip his finger in, the tip brushing against your entrance, and you tense in anticipation, but it doesn’t happen; he continues to run his finger down your slit, careful not to linger against your clit for too long. The result is that you tighten around nothing, and you hear him suck in a breath as he watches your hole grow smaller for a second. You laugh breathily, resting your chin against the backs of your hands, one folded atop the other. “Pretty enough for you to fuck?”

“Do you have to ask if you already know?”

“I want to hear it anyway.”

His finger slips into your hole, finally, and you keen softly as he breaches the first ring of tightness. He doesn’t really move it, just tests your tightness, feels you contract around him as if to know what his cock will feel in a few moments.

“Your pussy’s too pretty not to fuck,” he manages out, and his throat sounds as tight as you feel. “Seeing it like this… makes me think there’s no way anyone can resist. It’s exactly why I can’t let anyone see you like this.”

You hum as his finger presses in deeper, and you know it’s nothing in comparison to the real thing, but you like feeling that mild stretch, the depth it reaches all the same. “How should we let them know, then? That I’m all yours.”

His finger stills, and you hum softly, swaying your hips to shake him out of whatever trance he’s in. He’s grown quiet, but there’s a thoughtfulness in this pause, like he’s seriously considering your question. You laugh lightly, ready to tell him you’re just egging him on until he fucks you, but he slips his finger out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing again. You can’t help the confused noise that comes out of you, but you at least know he isn’t completely backing away, his other hand still firmly on your ass.

“Mark, what—”

You get your answer in the thud that interrupts your question — he’s tossed his phone onto the bed, having it land next to you. Something in your blood runs hot, and your fingers tremble when you pick it up. You see yourself reflected in the blackened screen — excitement in your eyes, your lips glossy from your blowjob.

Mark’s silent as you let the meaning of his actions settle; wordlessly, he slips his finger into you again, followed by another one this time, and you shudder in pleasure at the difference in the stretch. He doesn’t ask, but you can tell he’s wondering if he’s gone too far— if you think he’s crazy. He lets his fingers stay anchored in you, unmoving, waiting for you to say something, but from where he is, he just can’t know the smile that passes your face.

Finally, he tries to speak up. “We don’t have to— I just meant—”

“What’s your passcode?”

He breathes out, the exhale quivering as much as you probably are. “Your birthday.”

Your smile only widens when you tap the screen to life and see a picture of you — you don’t even remember when he’d taken it, but it’s a shot of you sprawled on his bed, bundled in his blanket and reading something that looks oddly like your textbook for your European Renaissance History class. It’s grainy and dimly lit, a stolen photograph of you, but it makes your heart swell, and you laugh lightly as you key in your birthday; the screen unlocks, allowing you access to all his applications.

“What’s funny?”

“Just thinking about how you should replace this wallpaper.”

“To what?” He sounds bemused.

“The view of me you have now.”

His fingers curl in you, pressing down against your walls, and you push your hips back in a bid for more friction; you hear him hiss out a ‘fuck’ under his breath, and his hand digs harder into the flesh of your ass.

You open Mark’s contacts, scrolling down aimlessly. Most of the names, you don’t recognize, but you see a few familiar ones crop up here and there. He doesn’t ask, only starts pumping his fingers into you in quiet anticipation, wondering how far you’re willing to take it, how much you’ve bought into this crazy idea.

“Mark,” you call out, and he hums in response. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“With my life.”

“So if I called Donghyuck right now—” His fingers hook into you, the delicious pressure on your walls making you squeak instead of finish your sentence immediately. You twist your torso to meet his eyes, and you’re slightly surprised but not at all displeased to see something crazed lingering in his gaze. “How much of a show would you want to put on for him?”

He shifts his weight, his knee sinking into the mattress as he slots it between your legs. This change in position allows him to angle his fingers a little differently, driving down into you with a force that makes you squirm. You almost forget you’ve asked him something again until he leans in closer, his murmur almost drowned out by the slick sounds of his finger pressing into your hole.

“Just… enough for him to know you’ve always been mine.”

Your thumbs are shaking when you scroll through his contacts again, up and down until you find the right name — Lee Donghyuck — and Mark watches you intently, wordlessly, as you press his number, start the call, and put it on speaker.

The wait feels like an eternity, with Mark’s finger slipping in and out of you in a steady, languid pace as you watch the line connect, but in reality, Donghyuck really only answers after the fourth ring. “Yo, Mark.”

His voice is casual, lacking in any sort of expectation; you can hear explosions and gunshots in the background, and you’re willing to bet he’s in the middle of an action movie. You’re proven right when you hear random English babbling soon after.

“Hi, Hyuck.”

“___________?” He sounds genuinely confused that it’s you that greets him. “Where’s Mark? You okay?”

“He’s right here with me; don’t worry.” Your voice is a soft croon, and he has to lower the volume of the television to be able to hear you better. “We’re totally fine. What are you up to?”

“Watching Resident Evil. Uh, is there a reason you called?”

You want to draw out the lie of something casual for as long as you can, but Mark doesn’t let you. His fingers push, suddenly forceful, into you, and you let out a soft cry into the receiver. You look back at him, eyes wide with amusement, and he shrugs, having at least enough sense to look slightly abashed at his experiment.

One moment, you’re listening to a female voice shout something, and the next, Donghyuck’s side of the call is silent except for his breathing. When you don’t bother explaining what had just happened, he takes matters into his own hands.

“Hello?”

He sounds equal parts affronted and amused, like the shock of it has tickled him. You can’t help it; you laugh too, but it’s quickly cut off by another whine when Mark pulls his fingers out. Donghyuck makes an incredulous noise.

“Now, what the fuck is all this about, you freaks?”

“You kept wondering why I ended up asking Mark out,” you evade his question with another one. “Should I tell you why, if you’re that curious?”

“No way. Have fun, weirdos,” he laughs, and the line goes dead a second after.

You snort out a laugh, and Mark mumbles something that sounds vaguely like that was crazy before he leans down and presses a kiss to the small of your back. You make to turn so you can finally face him, but you’re distracted when his phone screen lights up again, and Donghyuck’s name flashes across it.

You exchange amused glances before you pick up the call, and you don’t even get a ‘hello’ out when his voice rings out, sharp and clear.

“But pretending I am,” he says, as though he hadn’t hung up the call a few seconds ago. “Exactly what kind of answer would I get?”

“The kind that’ll hopefully shut you up for good,” Mark pipes in instead of you.

“What’s that even going to sound like?” Already, Donghyuck’s activated whatever toggle in him that gets him to push Mark’s buttons. This time, though, you can’t say it works against you; you feel Mark inch closer to you, and a moment later, the fat tip of his cock nudges against your entrance. “I bet you can’t even get her to yawn, man.”

Mark doesn’t have to respond; you do it for him when he pushes in, torturously slow, as if to draw out your moan. It works a little too well, with you keening into the phone, and yet no part of you is acting for his sake. As familiar as the stretch is, it’s not something you’ve ever been able to commit to memory fully, and it feels like a new breaching of your tightness each time. Your legs fold in slightly, a useless movement that attempts to get you adjusted to his size faster, but Mark interprets it as discomfort, his hands tightening on your hips.

“You okay?” He sounds genuinely worried for a second, forgetting that Donghyuck’s still on the line. Your cheek brushes against his sheets as you nod, trying to meet his eye even in this position to let him know you’re being honest.

“Fucking big, Mark.” You hear Donghyuck tsk from his end, and you laugh breathlessly. “You don’t like knowing he’s big?”

“I just hate that fucker,” Donghyuck quips back easily, but there’s no seriousness in his voice. If anything, it sounds a little raspy, with him clearing his throat soon afterward.

“Well, I’m crazy about him,” you whisper into the call, and your breathing hitches as Mark finally bottoms out, groaning at your tightness. “I’m crazy about the way he touches me, the way he tastes. I’m crazy about how big his cock is, how deep it gets when he’s inside me, how he stretches me out — fuck—”

Your verbal rampage is cut short by a loud moan as Mark draws his hips back and pushes forcefully into you; you haven’t fully adjusted, and you’re even tighter now from what you’re saying, so the friction inside you is nothing short of delicious. He starts a pattern of thrusts, not bothering to build up from his usual slow and steady pace — hearing you talk that way and knowing that Donghyuck is listening is enough to get him to abandon self-imposed restrictions.

“Mark,” you whine out, accidentally pushing the phone a little further away as you reach out blindly for him behind you, and he catches your wrist to let you know he’s there. “Mark, fuck, it feels so good—”

You tighten around him as if to prove your words, and he growls in response. You find yourself having to press your cheek in a little harder into the mattress as he gathers your wrists together into one hand, pinning them to your lower back, and it’s with that hold on you that he leverages his thrusts, pumping into you a little harder each time.

You’re not completely unaware of your surroundings, but it takes a while for you to process the sounds coming from the phone’s speaker — labored breathing, the sound of a zipper being pulled down. You want to wonder if this is working a little too well, but nothing comes from your mouth apart from soft whimpers, and it’s all the cue Mark needs to be the one to fill in the relative silence himself.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, and you feel his lips press between your shoulder blades. It feels like a chaste kiss at first, but he leaves his breath there, still flitting over your skin as he continues to speak. “I’ll never get tired of how pretty you are — how pretty you always sound for me. Doesn’t she sound pretty, Hyuck?”

“Fucking pretty,” Donghyuck agrees, though his voice sounds somewhat distant. You can only sob back a quiet ‘fuck me, harder, harder,’ in response.

“Can you imagine how much prettier she looks under me?” It’s almost a full-blown conversation now, but even if Mark’s addressing Donghyuck, the rest of his attention’s fully on you. He adjusts his stance, still keeping his hold around your wrists as he angles himself deeper into you, causing you to cry out and squirm in pleasure. With your face pressed against the bed and his weight driving down into you, you feel utterly trapped, in the best kind of way. Mark, in the way he is now, is inescapable, almost incorrigible, and he pistons deeper into your pussy, his free hand brushing your hair away from your shoulder so he can leave a kiss against it. “Bent over, legs spread just a little, all for me to take. Pretty little hole wet for me, and so fucking tight. Can you imagine that?”

“I’m doing it right now.”

“It’s a thousand times better in person. Trust me.”

The same hand slips between your thighs, two fingers spreading your folds apart; the middle one circles your clit in a pace that matches his thrusts, sudden and shocking, and you arch your back upwards slightly with a choked noise. He finally releases your wrists, and you claw at the sheets helplessly to keep yourself somehow upright as the force of Mark’s hips, their impact against the backs of your thighs, pushes you forward, closer to the phone again. The stimulation is merciless, endless, and in the haze of your pleasure, you wonder if you should make Mark a little more jealous everyday if it gets him to act this way.

“Mark, I…. I’ve been— s-since—”

“Not yet,” he whispers, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as if to bring you back to reality. You shudder at the pain, the pleasure that accompanies it, and when you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, you notice that a few tears escape your eyes. “Hold out for me a bit, okay? Please. It’s not enough. Not yet enough.”

You wonder if ‘enough’ is a concept the both of you even understand when it comes to wanting each other; already, you feel desire pooling in your stomach, threatening to spill from you, and clenching around him isn’t helping you stop it the way your body seems to think it’s supposed to. It also doesn’t help that Mark’s fingers are relentless, one still drawing tight, heavy circles around your clit, and the other creeping up under your shirt to tug down the cup of your bra, letting a breast spill into his warm palm. He kneads with an unusual — but not unpleasant — roughness, and you squeak out incoherently as he tweaks at the hardened bud of your nipple, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Hold on for me a little,” he continues murmuring, even after you shake your head and whisper ‘can’t’ to him over and over. “Do it for me. Tell Donghyuck — tell him how good it feels. How much you want to keep feeling me inside you.”

You don’t even know what to say; the pleasure that washes over you, the new kind of roughness that Mark exhibits has you drawing a blank, and you can only whine in a last attempt at protest, only for your tongue to start moving on autopilot, fueled by your want.

“It’s not enough,” you echo — and even if it feels like it is, even if it feels even more than you can possibly handle, something tells you that it’s true. “Not enough — need to feel you more, Mark. God, I want to feel you stretch me out, fuck my little hole into the shape of your cock— until no one else can fuck me but you—”

“What,” Donghyuck breathes out, his exhale coming across as static. “The fuck.”

You don’t have to explain; your babbling’s doing most of the work in that regard anyway, and you can tell by the wet, staccato noises on the other end that Donghyuck can easily piece together the scenario anyway. He’s jacking off to the both of you, something in your mind whispers, and the notion of that alone has you tightening around Mark’s cock. The change doesn’t go unnoticed, and his fingers sink deeper into your flesh; you cry out softly when you feel a jolt of pleasure as he gives your clit a sudden pinch.

“How much tighter can you get?” He sounds incredulous but also, interestingly, proud — there’s a smug tinge to his voice that arouses you even more. “Does it feel that good?”

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe out, the syllables quivering in your throat. “So good I’m going to lose my mind. Let me — God, please, let me—”

“Not yet,” Mark mumbles, and you whimper as he slows and slips out of you, his hand gently rubbing your folds in what feels like comfort — a small apology for his overt enthusiasm that you don’t even really need. “Just a little more. I need to see it.”

“See what?” Donghyuck’s voice is barely above a whisper, hoarse and pretty much muffled by the sound of his hand pumping his own shaft. Your head’s light, so your body moves on its own when Mark inches away slightly, giving you room to turn yourself around and lay on your back. You’ve barely even settled when he lifts your hips, dragging you closer to him and easing your thighs apart to slot himself between your legs.

His cock weighs heavy, pressed up against your folds, and he pushes his hips in a superficial thrust to get them to spread. His eyes fall briefly on your swollen clit, the wetness that you left on his shaft, even more of it still leaking from your hole. When he looks back up at you, there’s something triumphant in his gaze.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he coos, so lovingly it’d be hard to imagine his cock still sliding against your folds if you couldn’t feel it yourself. “I’ll never get enough of your perfect pussy — so perfect that it was made to take me.”

“See what?” Donghyuck presses, an impatience now coloring his voice. Mark chuckles, nodding at you and mouthing silently. Tell him.

Your inhale’s shaky, quivering like the rest of your body, and you don’t ever break away from Mark’s gaze, even as you speak.

“His cock fucking me in my stomach.”

Donghyuck’s ‘Jesus fucking Christ’ is drowned out by your cry of need as Mark pushes back into you. There’s no lag time now, no wait for any kind of adjustment; he takes you in one motion, until you feel his hips hit the backs of your thighs again. Your walls flutter around him, unable to process his size fully, and all that comes out of you is a string of messy mewls that’s constantly interrupted by the wet sounds of his thrusts.

Your body feels almost weightless, the only thing you can understand being the feeling of his cock pumping into you, stretching you out further. You’re only able to shake yourself out of the reverie when you feel his hands push back against your thighs, folding you in half, before they crowd atop your stomach.

“God, I need to feel it,” he groans out, his palms skimming under your navel, searching. “Please — do it for me.”

Even with your brain muddled, you don’t even have to try to figure it out; you let him feel it every time he asks. You inhale, deep and slow, until your stomach sinks, and the walls of your stomach flatten against his cock, which pauses briefly in its movements as he revels in the newfound feeling.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, and you flush in pleasure, in satisfaction at his praise. “Love seeing my cock inside you.”

He adjusts himself before he starts pumping into you again, burying his shaft all the way to the hilt each time; each thrust is followed by a soft sob from you, and you reach out, planting your hands on top of his. You obviously can’t feel his cock under your palms, but you don’t have to anyway; the fit’s tight enough that it feels, ridiculously, like he’s fucking your whole body, like he’s pressing into the deepest part of your core. You just want him to feel it more — the movement of the bulge under his hands, the resistance it has to push through to get to your stomach.

“Love feeling me inside you,” he continues, and his breathing stutters then, signaling that he’s also barely hanging on. “Love seeing how pretty you look when I rearrange your insides.”

You mouth out a disbelieving ‘what the fuck’ that earns you a simple smile, but Mark’s unrelenting in his movements anyway, his palms completely covering your stomach.

“Dude, I wanna see it too,” Donghyuck reminds you both of his presence when his voice comes through the speaker. “Put her on video.”

“No way,” comes Mark’s swift, firm reply. Donghyuck makes a noise of protest. “This is just for me.”

“Selfish as hell, calling me without really sharing.”

“The point wasn’t really ever to share.”

Mark’s hands suddenly press down on your stomach, and you stifle a soft scream; the pressure increases tenfold, as does the tightness of the fit, his cock brushing against your walls in a way that makes you feel breathless — it makes you feel used. Your hands fly up, fingers locking behind his neck, and you squirm under him, knowing fully well that you can’t escape anyway — not that you really want to, anyway.

“Mark,” you warn him again, your voice thin and airy. “I can’t anymore — I really—”

“I got you,” he murmurs — something you’ve come to learn he always says, always wants to let you know. He’ll be here until you break, until you can’t take anymore. “One second, okay?”

“Bro, what? Are you serious—” Even Donghyuck sounds confused, although his voice is tight too; he must be close, your mind weakly registers, but it doesn’t matter. Mark, albeit reluctantly, slips one hand away from your stomach — for a good cause, he must think, and you learn what it is when he ends the call, effectively cutting off Donghyuck’s complaints. Your eyes widen in confusion, but all Mark’s gaze is to you is reassuring, gentle, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips before he answers your unspoken question.

“Can’t let him hear you cum,” he murmurs against your mouth. “That’s only for me, isn’t it?”

You nod, letting the movement of it brush your lips against his. “You’re the only one I’ll cum for — the only one that can make me.”

Above your head, his phone is trilling noisily; the vibrations course through your back, weak but persistent, and for some reason, it heightens your arousal all the more. Mark ignores it completely, single-mindedly focused on pistoning into you with the bulk of his strength. His hands push down just under your navel, increasing your awareness of the feeling of his cock, him fucking you, coaxing out your climax.

“Do it. Show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.”

You don’t think it’s possible for him to inject any more strength into his movements, but he proves you wrong time and time again; the wind’s knocked out of you as he braces himself and fucks you harder, sharper into the bed, and the only noises you can make are weak whimpers and choked sobs. Your mind’s so overrun with pleasure that your climax hits your body first before your mind fully parses it; your back arches again, and you mewl out something broken, something that sounds like his name as you come undone.

Mark still doesn’t relent, the tremble in your legs somehow only inspiring him to put more power in his thrusts. Even through the dazedness that comes with all the stimulation, you can see the fine details you’ve come to know so well — the tightness in his jaw, the growing flush across his collar, the quick heaving of his chest. He’s close too, so close he’s just holding himself back out of sheer force of will to make sure he can watch you come down from your climax completely. You don’t know why he has to, but you want to see him let go too, and you scramble for words, for more touch — pressing your thighs firm against his sides to keep him close, locked — just to get him there.

“Will you mark me up one last time?” You breathe out. He reacts almost instantaneously, moving to lean down and press his mouth against the still-untouched side of your neck, but your palm on his chest stops him from doing so. Surprise crosses his face, followed by slight confusion. You squeeze your thighs against him, trying to make your point, but even then, his brow furrows. “Mark me — inside.”

His eyes widen, and his hips stutter before they resume pace, his fingers digging into your stomach almost painfully as he tries to keep himself in control. “I— no, you know I can’t…”

“Do you want to?” You egg him on, your hand dropping from his chest to land on top of his again, adding to the pressure until you’re sure he can feel every small movement, every throb of his own cock inside you. “You can, you know — make me yours, from the inside out.”

“God — we can’t; you know we’d be in so much trouble.”

“But I’d let you anyway, if you wanted to. Do you ever think about it, Mark?” Your fingers toy with his, almost like you’re having a casual conversation instead of a situation in which he’s deep inside you, already aching for release. “Fucking your cum deep into me, letting it seep into my stomach — making sure no one else can fill me up?”

“Jesus,” he growls, and he reluctantly slips his hands out from under yours to grip your thighs. Realistically, he has enough strength to peel them away, have you release him, but his hold just tightens, not really making any motion to do so. You see the thought flash in his eyes, serious even just for a moment. He thinks about it all the time.

“Think about it,” you urge, your voice soft but close to a demand. “And every time you do, remember one day, you will — because you’re the only one that can.”

He tilts his head back, letting a growl rip from his throat, and he finally manages to push your thighs apart. You let him, let them fall apart so he can slip out of you. You watch him shift upwards, his knees on either side of your torso, and you’re met with the erotic sight of him fisting his cock in front of you, urging himself into completion. You do the only thing you can think of to help; you open your mouth wide, pushing your tongue out, silently asking for his load.

“Even when you do that, you’re fucking pretty,” he groans out, and his thumb presses his cock down, resting the underside flush against your tongue as he rocks his hips. “How much prettier are you going to look with my cum all over your face?”

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out, and you don’t have to respond; he gets the answer he wants with one last thrust against your tongue, and you close your eyes briefly, allowing yourself to drink in the taste, the smell of his cum as it streaks across your cheeks, all over your lips. You hear his release as it comes too — the soft rumble from his chest, the release of air that gently whistles through his teeth.

When you open your eyes again, Mark is looking down at you, a warm flush creeping up his cheeks and ears again; he’s breathless, panting as he comes down from his high. From the daze of his climax, a slightly sheepish look of apology crosses his face, and he reaches down, seemingly without any real plan, to clean you up, only to withdraw, slightly bemused, when you shake your head.

A laugh escapes him when you shimmy out from under him, straighten up, and extend your arms upward, puckering your lips in slight demand. You think he might reject you, but Mark doesn’t even hesitate longer than a second. He swoops down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss, and your thighs press together tight as you enjoy the feeling of his tongue swiping away his cum from your bottom lip before he takes it between his teeth, sucking softly as if to clean you completely.

When he pulls away, his head dips into your shoulder; again, his face turns to press against the mark he’d left, and his teeth nip at the soft bruise that’s already begun to blossom. Satisfied by the soft noise you make at the sensitivity you feel from the contact, he breathes out, long and steady, against your skin.

“Just… can’t get enough of you,” he finally exhales, pressing another kiss to your neck; it’s gentler, situated just under your jaw.

“You don’t ever have to think about having enough,” you whisper, leaving a light nuzzle against his shoulder. “Just always think about having more.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, but he nods, accepting your offer anyway. A moment of silence passes, where you’re wrapped up in each other, his weight against you in a blanket of heat, and it stretches to what almost feels like an eternity — if not for the phone suddenly ringing again, Donghyuck’s name coming up on the ID. You both start, and Mark reaches over, fumbling with the sides of his device before he finds and toggles the silent switch.

“Seriously,” he grumbles, watching the call drop just for it to start up again, the screen flashing.

“We kind of left him hanging, to be fair.”

“No fairness.” Mark tosses the phone to the foot of the bed, where it lies, facedown and buzzing. “He got more than he deserved today.”

You watch him as he slips off the bed, rearranging himself before clipping his jeans button back into place. He whispers a gentle ‘be right back’ and exits the room, leaving the door only slightly ajar. You hear the water run in the bathroom, and a few moments later, Mark returns to your side, holding a damp towel.

He leaves a kiss after each light swipe across your face, as if to apologize for the pain he thinks he might be causing; you laugh, partly because it’s ridiculous, but mostly because you like it. He cleans your mouth last, even though there’s already nothing left, just so he has an excuse to leave a long, lasting kiss there.

You think it’s the last you’ll get for now, but he surprises you by bending down even further, hiking your shirt up your torso again. His hand rests on your thigh, keeping himself balanced as he presses a flutter of kisses around your navel, lingering at the exact spot that sits above where he knows his cock hits every time he bottoms out in you.

“One day,” he whispers into your skin before he looks up at you, his eyes shining. “I’ll really make you all mine.”

“Dummy.” Your voice is just as low, and you pull his head up again, enjoying the brush of his hair against your hand, the swoop of his jaw under your palm. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Every single day, considering I’ll never get tired of it.”

You hum, not one to deny him of what he asks anyway; you push him back onto his calves, climbing back onto his lap; it’s your favorite way to be near him, you decide, with almost nothing between you, almost everything of yours touching everything of his — like you fit in him perfectly. You rest your cheek against his shoulder, feeling their soft rise and fall as his breathing steadies, and you squirm a bit, if only to make sure his arms are locked securely around you — to make sure he won’t let go. Just like that, in his arms, you say it again — a truth, a fact, and a promise.

“I already am.”

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wongyuuu · 2 months

Text

calendar | csc

pairing: seungcheol x f!reader genre: smut word count: 3.1k summary: the red mark on the calendar is one of seungcheol's favorites warnings: minors do not interact, kissing, stimulation, swearing, petnames, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this), oral (f. receiving), breeding kink, cock sleeve (kinda), dirty talking playlist: ➝ here a/n: still a little (a lot) insecure about smut, but wanted to try writing this one. not proof read

please remember that comments and reblogs are extremely important

seungcheol stopped in front of the calendar in the closet, a smile tugging at his lips. the red circle around the date, signaling an important event he always waited a little more anxiously for.

not that having sex with his wife was something he couldn't do as often as he liked, far from that. if anything both of you were always eager to be with each other, even after so many years together. it had never gotten boring or dull at any moment. both of you always wanted to try new things and keep it interesting, mostly you. for seungcheol being buried deep inside you while you moaned his name was to closest thing he'd ever to heaven, if such a place even existed.

he gave up on the shirt, knowing fully well what the sight of him in nothing but sweats did to you. pair it with his wet hair and it was enough to drive you crazy. the good thing about being with someone for so long is knowing exactly what ticks the other person off, and what buttons to press. well, it could be both a blessing and a curse. in that moment seungcheol chose to believe that it was solely a blessing.

a small groan left his lips at the sight of you lying on your stomach, scrolling through your phone, in his shirt and black pair of panties — the one he bought you after there was a small accident with a few pieces of underwear.

the thing about ticks and buttons is that it works both ways and, obviously, seungcheol wasn't the only one who could play that game.

he crawled on top of you slowly and pushed your hair to the side so he could kiss the nape of your head. you sighed in contentment when you felt his weight on top of yours.

"look," you said, raising your phone slightly "hannie sent me pictures of his daughter today"

seungcheol looked at the smiling face of his friend with a little girl in his arms. it had been many years since he had seen jeonghan look quite that happy. of course that suddenly finding out about a child and suddenly needing to be a full-time dad wasn't the easiest thing in the world but he was playing it like a breeze. you swiped your finger and a picture of the little girl in a bright yellow dress greeted him. seungcheol smiled. yeah, she was cute and looked every bit like jeonghan, acted too. a little menace, she was.

"what does he want? if he's sending pictures he wants something" he chuckled knowing his friend well. everything jeonghan did had a purpose.

seungcheol sat back on his heels and slowly started to massage your shoulders over the fabric of the shirt.

"he asked if we can have gia tomorrow night, he has a work thing to go" you moaned lowly when seungcheol pressed on the not in your shoulder blade, "i said yes"

he laughed again. of course you had been quick to agree, it didn't surprise him. you had always loved kids and were always happily willing to have them for any amount of time needed. after you had gotten married it had gotten a little more frequent since most of your friends had decided to have kids at the same, and since jeonghan found out about his daughter it had gotten weekly. seungcheol never complained, he too loved kids and liked having them around, he especially loved the glint in your eyes whenever you looked at them running around the living room, breaking a thing or two.

"cheol" you said one day at the darkest hour of the night after rolling around in bed for hours, voice barely a whisper as you played with his hair "i... should we start trying?"

it was too late, his mind was barely working, almost drowning in sleep for him to understand what you were saying but in hindsight, he should have seen it coming.

"trying what?" he asked turning around and wrapping you in his arms, his leg nesting between yours.

"for a baby"

that was how the calendar ended up hanging on the closet wall. your ovulation period was marked in a bright red marker.

"do you think it's really work or, maybe, a date?" you asked.

slowly seungcheol moved his hand lower, to the small of your back, pressing a little more tenderly where he knew you struggled with pain. he moved your, his, shirt up, adding a little more pressure as your body fully relaxed under him.

"jeonghan wouldn't date now," he said "gia is still getting used to him and us, he wouldn't add someone else to the mix"

you turned around under him, eyes narrowed. when you raised your arm to rest it under your head your shirt lifted a little, exposing the skin right over the elastic of your underwear. it was pretty, yes, with lace details on the sides but that mattered very little. seungcheol was far more interested in what was hidden under it.

"you're telling me that jeonghan hasn't fucked anyone since we got gia? a whole seven months ago"

seungcheol placed his hands on your waist, your skin warm under his touch. the corner of your lips tugged up at the expression in your husband's eyes. he was struggling to keep focus on the conversation both of you were heaving. jeonghan and gia were the least of his worries.

"i care very little about who jeonghan fucks" he said, voice hoarse as he leaned forward at the same time he pushed your shirt further up "all i care about is putting a baby in my beautiful wife"

he pressed a kiss to your naked skin. he had imagined it many times, you pregnant with his kid, your belly around. it had been one of the many reasons why he had woken you up in the middle of the night and fucked you dumb. he had never said anything, choosing to let you decide when it was time. when you were ready to have a baby. seungcheol knew that it was going to change things for you a lot more than it would for him, it was also your body.

if it were up to him, you'd have a least two kids running around the house.

"you have some work to do then," you said, laughing.

almost like a reflex, you tangled your fingers in his hair. you sighed as seungcheol started his exploratory kisses. some were light, like the touch of a feather, loving, in a worship manner. others were the exact opposite, harsher as he pulled your skin in between his teeth just for a second, to later soothe the spot with the tip of his tongue. he loved to leave tiny marks in your body, where no one else would be able to see them but him. but you knew they were there, it was a constant reminder of the night before and a reminder of what was still to come.

you spread your legs to better accommodate seungcheol as he pushed your shirt to your neck. you felt a little electric tension run over your skin when you noticed his eyes on you, taking in your every expression. you smiled when he pressed his thumb over your hard nipple, pinching it.

seungcheol took your boob into his mouth, biting your nipple at the same time he pinched the other one. involuntarily your back arched, your grip on his hair tightening.

he loved the sounds you made, how it usually started so low and small but he always managed to work you up enough to get you begging under him, on top of him. either way, you'd end the night pleading for him, for his cock.

"do you think today is the day?" he asked, trailing his kisses again down your stomach to your panties "do you think i can pump you full enough to get you pregnant?"

you expected seungcheol to tug at the sides of your panties and pull them down but instead, he kissed you over them. he grinned when he saw the small wet spot in your underwear.

"i barely started and you're already wet, baby?" he teased.

he ran his finger over your cunt still covered by the thin panties. your hips twitched under his touch, needing more than just light touches. but you weren't ready to give in to him yet. he was going to have to work harder if he wanted to hear you begging for more.

"not a word? playing hard to get tonight, i see" he pushed your underwear to the side, lightly blowing your clit. he had to contain the laugh that erupted in his chest "let's see how long it lasts"

you raised your hips as seungcheol used his index fingers to pull your panties down. you laughed when you saw the small piece of cloth being thrown over his shoulder. your laughter died as soon as you felt his warm, wet, tongue on your clit. he sucked the small bundle of never into his mouth at the same time he pushed two fingers into you. he was relentless, his pace devastating, not giving you a second to breathe.

the sounds, of his mouth on you as well as the wetness of your pussy, were obscene but they turned you on even further. you wanted, needed, more.

and the thing is, seungcheol was the giving kind of partner. whatever you wanted was yours, but you had to say it, loud and clear. for him.

"come one baby, just ask" he blew your clit again, this time using the tip of his thumb to lightly brush it "use your pretty little mouth and beg for me"

a curse left your lips when his fingers stopped moving and he pulled away from you. your orgasm that was right there, around the corner, suddenly gone, leaving only your throbbing cunt and ragged breathing as a witness.

you tried to grab his hand and push his fingers back but the was being a little shit, holding it behind his back.

"fuck, seungcheol," you said, partially annoyed, and desperately turned on "just eat me out, fuck me with your fingers. whatever you do just make me cum"

"your wish, wife, is always my command"

seungcheol wasted no second. his lips were around your clit and a third finger was added into to slit. it only took a few pumps for you to come undone under him. a mess of moans and curses. unsure of when exactly you had let go, your hand gripped his hair again, forcing his head closer to you, grinding his face against you, desperate for everything he had.

seungcheol used the edge of the mattress to apply some pressure on his throbbing cock. he was so hard it was painful so whatever friction he could get was welcomed.

every single one of your moans were met a stroke of his tongue and a pump of his fingers. it was torture, the most delicious and vicious kind of torture.

seungcheol only leaned back when he felt the shake in your legs subside, crawling back you. he pressed his thumb in your mouth, smiling when you opened and sucked him in. you were the most beautiful thing in the world, with your cheeks painted in a bright shade of pink, and two tear stains on the sides of your eyes. god, he loved you.

you could taste your own release in his finger when you circled his finger with your tongue. you grazed his skin with your teeth looking into his eyes. seungcheol hissed, wishing that it was his cock in your mouth.

"i know you would love it if i sucked you," you said "but i really need you to fuck me, right now, please"

you were going to be the death of him.

you pulled your shirt over your head and turned around, sticking your ass up while your chest was pressed against the pillow.

for a second seungcheol felt like a teenager who just found out he was about to fuck the hottest girl he had ever laid eyes on. he was quick to push his sweats off. he hadn't bothered with boxers, knowing exactly where the night would lead the two of you.

"i'm going to fill you up so good baby" he squeezed your ass and second later slapped it "so so deep there's no way you won't get pregnant tonight"

he ran his tip over your pussy a few times, coating himself in you. he knew that he could slide in without doing it but he also liked torturing you. your moans got a little more desperate every time rubbed against your clit.

whenever he took you bare the sensation was entirely new and different. yes, there were a few instances when both of you were in too much of a hurry, or sometimes it just didn't matter enough, to care or remember to take a condom, but ultimately both of you had always been careful. you took your pills, he carried a condom and life moved on. but even after months of no condom, no barrier at all between the two of you, seungcheol still felt his head get a little dizzy.

your walls adjusted perfectly to him, clinging around him, pulling him, demanding every single inch of him. he slowly pushed in until all he was deep into you, to the hilt.

you moaned against the soft fabric of the sheets, loving the burning sensation of the stretch. you pushed your ass high in the hair, wiggling it from side to side begging him to just move. the stretch of his dick deliciously painful still.

"cheol, move" you begged.

"this what you want?" he asked

seungcheol pushed your head further into the mattress, his hand on the back of your head, thighing your hair around his fist. finally he started to move, he pulled his cock all the way out and pressed it back in, hitting that one spot that made your head spin and little stars shine behind your closed eyes, over and over again. you squirmed when seungcheol pressed his weight over your body, moaning as he somehow got even deeper.

you moved your hand down your body, slowly circling your with the tip of your nail.

"cheol, fuck" you bit the pillow "faster, please, just fuck me"

he loved the neediness in your voice, how you completely forfeit with your no-begging police. the smell of your sweet vanilla soap disappeared now that your skin was coated in a thin layer of sweat.

seungcheol didn't change his rhythm, knowing that it was enough to drive you crazy and over the edge.

"are you touching yourself, baby?" he pulled on your hair, giving you a taste of your medicine. his dick throbbed when he saw the smile on your face "fuck"

he reached forward, slapping your hand away from your cunt. you cursed at him but the nasty words were quickly replaced with a moan when he pinched your clit, tugging and pressing, driving you fucking crazy on his dick. even so, his pace was slow.

"cum for me, baby" he whispered.

"let me ride you" you begged "i want to look at you when you breed me"

your words had always been the ruin of him. he almost came right there. he turned you around and sat on the bed, grinning when you cried when his dick left your pussy.

"i know, baby, but you were the one that wanted to ride me"

a small fuck you left your lips as you crawled on top of him. seungcheol moaned when you gripped him, your hand sliding up and down his length while you grazed his tip with your nail lightly. you aligned him to you and sank down in one swift movement, making both of you moan.

seungcheol was wrong, being balls deep into you wasn't paradise. no. paradise was being balls deep in your cunt while you rode him, tits bouncing in in his face, while you moaned his name again and again like a prayer, taking what you wanted from him. he cupped your breasts in his hands. your hands covered his, forcing your nipples between his fingers and squeezing.

"fuck. cheol" you said, eyes on his as you circled your hips before thrusting down on him again "i'm gonna cum. i need to"

your walls squeezed around him. seungcheol moaned as he held you by the hips holding you in place, while the pounded into you, finally, finally fucking you as fast and as hard as you wanted. he fucked you roughly, watching as his cock disappeared in your cunt, each thrust deeper than the previous one. seungcheol felt the muscles of his thighs and stomach squeeze at the same time you clenched around him, milking him.

he pressed his thumb to your clit and the scream you let out was enough to drive both of you to the edge. you let your body fall forward, and you bit that spot between his shoulder and neck. seungcheol continued to pound into you, fucking his cum as deep as he could, pushing it further into you making sure not even a drop was wasted.

it took both of you a couple of minutes to settle down, evening out your breathing, and making sure your legs were no longer shaking.

"seungcheol" you cried, finally looking at his face, kissing him, letting him invade your mouth with his tongue "i'm so full. it's so deep"

he could never, ever, get enough of you.

“don’t move baby, let’s make sure this one sticks”

you kissed the side of his neck, feeling his hot cum inside you while his dick slowly got flaccid. you loved to have him in you, just there, with you, as close as humanly possible, with nothing between the two of you. his personal cock sleeve, he had called you a few times.

“you say it like fucking me is a terrible task someone assigned you”

you felt the vibrations of his laughter before you heard it. you just closed your eyes and pressed your head to his chest, the sound of his heartbeats calming like a lullaby.

“fucking you is the one task i’ll never ask someone else to do in my place”

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muchosbesitos · 1 month

Text

congratulations

i bet on losing dogs (part two) series masterlist

pairing: college miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: one year age gap, angst (?), smut, unprotected sex, doggy, and mentions of masturbation (m) pls lmk if i missed anything 🥸

synopsis: after going through a toxic cycle with his ex girlfriend, miguel learns that maybe he does deserve some type of love in his life.

author’s note: DADDY’S HOMEEE 🗣️ anyways so i sorta based this off mac miller’s song ‘congratulations.’ i hope y’all aren’t tired of me posting angst 😪 (i haven’t forgotten ab the poll btw 😭)

word count: 6.3k

The sun don't shine when I'm alone

Miguel was stuck in a cycle of getting together with Dana, spending a couple months of bliss by going on dates with her and exchanging sweet gestures to having a messy breakup over something completely minute. It was toxic, he could admit that much to himself. But he didn't wish to stop it. If his own mother couldn't provide him with love as a child, why should he expect for someone else to love him?

He was an anomaly.

Or at least, that's what he's been led to believe for most of his life. A being that was incapable of being loved properly, of being the odd one out in every situation he was in. From being the tallest one in every single room he stepped in (often having to crouch his head) to being the black sheep of his family.

He stayed with Dana as a method to prove to himself that he was worthy of loved by someone, even if it wasn't expressed in the healthiest of ways. But even he was starting to get at his ending point. "No, I told you about a week ago that robotics was starting back up again and that I'd be busy with the meetings," Miguel explained for what seemed to be the thousandth time this week. Think about the good moments.

"So are those meetings more important than spending time with me now?" Dana's voice was starting to get annoying to his ears, the tiny whine in her voice starting to irritate him. He was sure she was putting up that pout that she thought got him weak at the knees every time he saw it. Really, he only ended up relenting to whatever she said so he couldn't have to see that awful expression on her face for much longer.

"No, they're not. But just try to understand that I have different interests outside of this relationship. We can go out this weekend if you want to do that," he was running out of options to keep her happy. It seemed like the more that he wanted for this relationship to work, the more that she kept slipping away from his fingers. "It's just.. I don't know if I want to be in a relationship where my needs aren't being seen."

She'd be back within the week. Maybe even less if she got up to that point of loneliness. She'd come back over to him with an apologetic smile on her face, expressing how she was willing to forgive him for his past transgression. "It's okay, I know you get busy sometimes but as long as you're willing to change, I want to give this another shot," she'd whisper in his ear, the two making up in an empty janitorial closet. An exchange of empty promises slipping from Dana easily forgotten with the heat of the moment.

He came back home from a robotics meeting that had run late, a small sigh escaping his lips as he stepped inside. There was no one to welcome him as he stepped in through the door, no one to ask him how his day had gone at school today. "How'd your day go?" he asked out loud, pretending that it was his mother's voice instead of his own echoing through the living room. "It was good, thanks for asking," he felt like a fool for talking to himself, rolling his eyes as he set down his bag on the couch.

Or at least, he'd thought he was alone. He heard two voices coming from the basement, his brother's and someone else's. He made his way downstairs, his eyes widening slightly upon the sight. The spaceship model that he'd spent every available second of last week building was now crumbled by a basketball. Gabriel's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, moving closer to Miguel as you stood in the corner.

"Look, we're sorry. The game got out of hand," Gabriel started off but he released that all his attempts to apologize would be futile upon seeing the glare Miguel was shooting in his general direction. "So if you knew, why'd you come downstairs to come play?" Miguel answered back quickly, seeming to have his comebacks ready at any moment. Part of you started to feel guilty, needing to take some kind of responsibility for this as well.

"Hey, it's not his fault. I'm the one who suggested that we play down here," you could sense the tension from a mile away, deciding to ease the situation a bit. Even if that meant you had to take the fall for Gabriel's mistake. You could see the gratitude in Gabriel's expression upon seeing you walk over to them. "So? That doesn't change the fact that my project's still in shambles."

And almost as if on cue, one of the pieces that was barely hanging on fell to the ground with a dramatic thud. You could see the vein on Miguel's forehead get closer and closer to popping the more he looked at the remnants of what was otherwise, a perfect model rocket. The only reason the two of you had even come down here in the first place was because Gabriel wanted to show you the design that his brother was working on.

You'd expressed some interest in wanting to join the stem club at school, but you eventually decided against it after seeing that it was majorly ran by guys. Guys that had a reputation for being overwhelmingly misogynistic. You decided it'd be better not to join and just wait until next year, if you even wanted a chance of getting your ideas being heard out.

Most of them didn't even bother to listen to you outside of school so you didn't delude yourself into thinking that being in a club would magically change that. As much as you really wanted to join.

So you settled for observing from the outside, walking into the robotics classroom when it was deserted to look through the different parts modeled and the different things that were presented. And occasionally, Gabriel would let you sneak a peek at what the club president, Miguel, was up to.

"I can help you with the project if you want," you suggested, hoping that it would detonate the situation. The two brothers had been on thin ice since Miguel managed to get with Dana, leaving you to comfort Gabriel as he cried about the loss of his girlfriend. Miguel's face relaxed instantly, his gaze flickering over to you instead. "I'll do it myself. You'd probably just end up messing it up," his tone came out cold, dismissing the two of you out of the basement.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to slice with a blade. You stepped away from the table where the model rocket had once been set up, choosing to go stand by Gabriel instead. You would've figured that was the last of the discussion but you heard Gabriel mumbling underneath his breath as he headed out. Miguel's ears instantly perked up, his teeth gritting against one another. "You have something you wanna say to me?"

Miguel had practically given Gabriel a loaded weapon now. The two of you collectively knew that Gabriel wasn't one to keep his mouth shut. But maybe Miguel just wanted to keep the argument going? You weren't completely sure how this family dynamic worked at all. "Pinche amargado," Gabriel spoke up, a scoff escaping from Miguel's lips. (fucking bitter)

"Amargado porque tu no puedes dejar mis putas cosas en paz." (bitter because you can’t leave my stuff alone)

"Igualito a ti, cabron. Tu con Dana y yo con tus cosas." (just like you. you with dana and i with your stuff)

"Vete a la puta v-"

Their voices rose with each retort that they gave one another, the two almost at a brink of yelling at each other. You looked around to try to create a diversion, opting to just flicker the lights on to see if they'd calm down. You didn't have much hope in your strategy but Miguel fell silent after the lights had been turned off. Two pairs of eyes were directed towards you when you turned the lights back on, both expressing some form of disdain.

"Look, it was my fault for ruining your project so allow me to take some kind of responsibility and help you rebuild it. It's not going to be done on time tomorrow if you do it all by yourself," you spoke up after they both had a couple seconds to calm down, reluctance visible all over Miguel's face. Though, he seemed to be actually considering the possibility now. His brows furrowed as he stayed quiet for a couple seconds, eventually huffing out what sounded like a 'fine.'

"Just call me when you're done here," Gabriel relented as he walked over to the basement door, paying once last glance to you over his shoulder. You nodded to his words, looking back over at Miguel. He was already hunched over his desk, starting to take out the pieces of the rocket that had been affected. Maybe you'd get lucky and he wouldn't continue with his angry rant?

I see your eyes look through my soul

The two of you worked in silence for the most part, a couple mutters escaping from Miguel as he worked on taping the pieces back in their correct order. "Irresponsables," he muttered to himself, gluing one of the small pieces together. He wasn't too keen on having you around, his body turned away from you as he worked. But yet, you also had some kind of urge to help him out after you'd aided in the destruction of his project.

"How'd you get into aerospace?" You decided to break the ice and ask a question, looking up from the piece that you were assembling back together. His expression seemed to lose the original intensity that it once held, his body relaxing in the rolling chair he was in. "I didn't. I pursued robotics at first and then there was this competition to build rockets. I started to learn about them, about the different space missions from the past and eventually my interest grew from there."

You nodded along to his answer, going back to working on the piece you were reconstructing. His gaze travelled over to where you were working, a bit surprised by how well you were doing. He'd expected for you to make an even bigger mess of the situation and excuse it with 'just trying to help.' "Are you into aerospace as well?" You hadn't expected for him to actually engage in the conversation but it was a question that you liked getting asked about. While most of the conversation revolves around aerospace, you couldn't deny that he was fun to talk to.

"If you like it that much, you should join. A couple members apart from myself are graduating this year and a couple chairs are going to open," he noted, handing you a wrench to tighten a bolt. You tightened the bolt, grabbing one of the nuts that scattered through the floor when the wing fell off. "I'll think about it," you told him, though your voice held no conviction towards it. He wouldn't push the topic further but he could see just how excited you were to be working on the project.

So much that you didn't even demand to be credited as one of his partners for the project.

Much as he hated to admit to himself, he found that it was quite nice to spend some time with you. Especially when it came to do something that he enjoyed doing. It was a sharp contrast from his time with Dana, going from having surface level conversations about each other's day. Maybe a relationship shouldn't have to involve so much work? Maybe every conversation didn't have to end in a fight after all.

Instead of trying to fix things over with Dana by following her like a lost puppy, he decided to fix things up with Gabriel. Because a part of him secretly wanted to see you again. The modified rocket ship had gotten a couple compliments from the other members, some of them even claiming that it could go to nationals. He wasn't completely sure if they were sucking up to him for a recommendation, but he knew that you'd appreciate the feedback.

So, he decided he'd stop being so strict with Gabriel and lend his stuff over whenever he asked. To which he got a couple of surprised looks and hesitation at first. The next step in the process was for him to work out an apology. But how does one exactly go about apologizing for stealing a partner? Especially when said person had brought up concerns to feeling inferior in every shape and form to himself? He'd dug himself into a hole he had no idea how to get out of.

Miguel awkwardly stood in front of Gabriel's room as he heard the thud of a couple tools inside, his younger brother being more into mechanics than robotics. He decided to swallow the last bit of pride that he had, stepping inside the threshold. He could sense the surprise seeping out of Gabriel as he sat down next to him, grabbing one of the screwdrivers. The two worked in silence for a while, working in perfect synchrony as they focused on building an engine.

"I'm sorry for what happened with Dana, by the way. I know it's not worth much but I am. I shouldn't have taken your trust for granted and I shouldn't have done that considering how you feel about me," Miguel spoke up after they were getting close to finishing, looking over at Gabriel. He saw a frustrated expression all over his brother's face, something that he wasn't particularly used to seeing. "You know, you keep saying what you shouldn't have done but the fact remains that you still did it. But thank you for that apology, I guess."

Miguel started offering to take the both of you to places, choosing to tag along just to hear your laugh whenever Gabriel would make a joke. Even if he wanted to be the one telling you these jokes. "Hey, what do you call a Drosophila who likes to drink?" he decided to break the silence as he drove you two to the movie theater, looking over at you through their rear view window. "What do you call it?" You decided to indulge in his 'joke,' if his attempt could even classify as that. "A bar fly."

You let out a laugh more so out of how bad it was, your eyes crinkling as you did. The look on Gabriel's face made the laughter escape from your lips much louder. "Can't believe you're actually laughing at those bad jokes," Gabriel muttered, staring at you like you were a creature from outer space. "Shut up before I leave you on the side of the freeway," Miguel called out from the front seat, biting back a smile of his own upon seeing that he'd managed to make you laugh. Maybe it was worth it looking for those corny science jokes last night.

Miguel had quickly forgotten about the void he was trying to fill with Dana, only reminded of it when he saw her leaning against his car. Her glossy lips were wrapped around a lollipop, her brown hair combed back into a bob. All he could think about was all the dirt she was probably getting on his car now. "You haven't answered any of my calls," Dana whined as he approached, getting off his car to go over to him. "For good reason," Miguel grumbled, opening his car door to toss his backpack inside. He could see Dana trying to scramble for some kind of logical answer, a slew of curses thrown his away once she realized what'd he meant.

The cycle was done. They were done this time, for good.

"How come you're not out at those graduation parties and stuff?" Gabriel mused as he took a bite out his burger. "You think he's type of person to get invited to parties?" You decided to tease Miguel a bit, taking some of his fries before dipping them into ranch. No he wasn't. Not that he'd ever admit that to you though. "The scent of weed just irks my nose, man," Miguel responded, a small scoff coming from the younger brother in response.

Empty cans of beer and articles of clothing washed up to the surface of the bay, the sight making you grimace in disgust. But this was where Miguel had decided he wanted to go after graduation. "I'm gonna head to the car, it smells like ass out here," Gabriel told the both of you, tossing the final rock he had in his hand out into the water before walking off. To be fair, it really did smell like ass. The contamination from the water and the ships around mixed in together, overall just providing an unpleasant scent.

"I'm gonna head back too," you told Miguel, starting to get up from your spot. Before you had the chance to dust yourself off properly, Miguel had stood up and placed a hand on your shoulder. "Just wait a second, please. There's something that I have to ask you," he seemed fidgety, looking everywhere else but you as he talked. You stayed silent, giving him the chance to speak whenever he was comfortable enough to. "Do you want to go out on a date with me?"

He was starting to prepare himself for the upcoming rejection, making a mental list of all the songs he'd add to his breakup playlist later on. He'd probably end up blasting those at full volume in the basement while taking out his anger on a model robot, bracing himself to ignore the yells from Gabriel coming up the stairs. "Yes," the words didn't register in his mind at first, his eyes drifting over to your mouth as he made out the syllables.

Wait, what?

"You're actually being serious?" he had to ask. Had to double check that this wasn't a prank or something that Gabriel had set you up to as some kind of revenge for what he did with Dana. Then again, Gabriel hadn't exactly mentioned anything about you towards him. Not that they talked a lot nowadays, but he figured that Gabriel would've at least expressed some kind of concern if he knew. So.. there was really only one possibility left.

You actually wanted to go out with him.

The time that the two of you spent together that summer was much more than the time you actually spent apart, from going out to exploring different museums to different science conventions. Your main concern had been how Gabriel would take it, not wanting to overstep your boundaries as his best friend. "Be careful, okay?" was all that he said when he saw you walking out of Miguel's room with a borrowed shirt on. Gabriel was more concerned about you than Miguel throughout this exchange.

The transition to when the school year started was difficult, given that the two of you had somewhat conflicting schedules. Despite all this, Miguel was sure to schedule a minimum of two dates for each month. Miguel was determined to put the effort into making this relationship work now that he managed to get with you. He'd make sure to pull all nighters the day before he had a date with you to get his assignments done on time, wanting nothing more but dedicate the time designated to you fully.

You didn't know who else to call when college decisions went out, choosing instead to call Miguel. You knew he'd been swamped with lectures and research essays as of late, but you didn't want to share this moment with anyone else. Not when he was the one to calm you down with each mini panic attack you got after hitting the 'submit' button on your applications. "Hola princesa, what's up?" his voice drawled out like the sweetest honey, your breathing slowly starting to calm down.

"Hey, I hope I'm not bothering you too much but I was wondering if you could come over. College decisions came out and I can't get myself to click through the messages alone," you told him, your leg bouncing as you awaited for an answer. "I'll be right over. I'll bring some burritos," he answered, the line clicking to an end shortly after. You waited with anticipation for the doorbell to ring, practically jumping off your bed when you did hear it thirty minutes later.

"Just open it, I'm sure they accepted you. They'd be dumb not to," he sat down next to you as you scrolled to the last one you had left to open. The one you'd saved as an attempt to keep your hopes up from being too high. You had four acceptances, two from out of state and two in Nueva York. "I can't. What if I just have my hopes up?" you had your face hidden behind your hands, your words coming out muffled. "Even if they did reject you, it's not the end of the world. Just look for yourself."

UC Berkeley had been more of a reach school for you, the other four being your safety nets. Your grades hadn't exactly been up to perfection but you held out the hope that the extracurriculars you got involved with and the volunteer service you did was enough. As well as the robotics credential that Miguel encouraged to go after. You let out a sigh, trying to calm yourself down before clicking on the letter. The words blurred together as you read through it, a bunch of gibberish registering in your brain. Miguel had his hand on your thigh, gently rubbing small circles on it.

The touch was slowly bringing you back to earth, your breathing starting to calm down. You didn't have to say anything, he just knew what you needed before you even had the chance to realize that you even needed it. You directed your attention back to the monitor upon calming down, reading over the letter. "I got in!" you exclaimed as you look over at Miguel, his hands immediately wrapped around you. "I told you so. They'd be stupid not to have you in their school."

They'd even offered you a scholarship! The only downside was that it was in California.

The thought hadn't even registered in your head when you were applying for a spot, the only thought in your head being that of fulfilling what you wanted. You looked over at him, the same look of realization upon him as he saw 'Berkeley, CA' almost taunting him through the screen. The idea of doing long distance wasn't something you were quite fond of, given the fact that it just seemed like a slow way to prolong the fact that the end of the relationship. And yet, you didn't really want to break up with him.

"Would you stay in Nueva York if I asked you to?" Miguel knew he was being selfish by asking this, he knew that he had to let you go and pursue what you wanted to do. But he didn't want to. He wanted you to stick by his side and pursue your dream here. "I would stay if you did. But I think a part of me would also end up resenting you for asking that of me," you responded, your hand tightening its grip slightly around him. It was a gesture meant to comfort him but your words carried more weight than that simple squeeze did.

He knew how much you wanted to go, he'd been there when you filled out the application. From the process of setting your information in the system to reassuring you that you were qualified enough to get in, despite how much his heart ached at the thought of having to be without you. "It was just a hypothetical. I wouldn't ask you to do that for me," he quickly told you, taking a bite from his burrito to busy himself with doing something. Your happiness was much more of a priority than his own.

You were inclined on just leaving without saying goodbye but the thought of him thinking you abandoned him was almost too much for you to handle. You ran over to his house after you'd finished packing, hoping that he hadn't gone back to campus yet. "He's upstairs," Gabriel told you upon taking note of your sweat covered forehead, his nose scrunching up. "Thanks!" you called out as you made your way inside, almost tripping your two feet when you rushed up the stairs.

Baby, you were everything I ever wanted

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Miguel asked you, his lips barely grazing above your earlobe. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his lips move down to your neck, his lips parting as he kissed the side. "Yeah, I'm sure," you responded after you managed to regain your composure, your head lolling back to give him more access to your neck. He took that invitation eagerly, his lips pressed on every inch of your neck that he could access.

His teeth sunk down just hard enough to leave a mark on your skin, his way of making sure that you'd remember him. At least for the following week that the hickey lasted. He'd settle for that much. The night never progressed from a couple heated kisses exchanged between the two of you, a wanton need keeping your bodies pressed against one another. For a moment, it was as if nothing else in the world really mattered. You were just two people, not college students that would inevitably have to talk about what their future would be.

"I don't think I could ever just be friends with you. It's better if we just end things here," Miguel spoke up in the middle of the movie the two of you were watching, a boring scene from a movie about how robots took over the world. As if you weren't living through that now in the year 2079.

"Yeah, I guess so. Thank you for the time together," The breakup had been amicable, easy. There were no harsh feelings between the two of you, only simple understanding that the relationship wouldn't work out if the two of you dragged this on. However, as friendly as it had been, that didn't stop you from shedding a couple tears when you got home to finish packing. You almost wished he had given you a reason to hate him so that it would replace the sense of yearning you felt at the notion of leaving him behind.

That was supposed to be the end. You'd go on about your life without having to be around Miguel again, Without feeling his beefy arms wrap around you in the mornings as an attempt to keep you in bed for a little longer, or having his lips pressed against your forehead whenever you needed a bit of reassurance. That was until you found yourself in his bed when you came back to Nueva York to celebrate Gabriel’s birthday. It was the only time you allowed yourself to come back.

How Miguel allowed himself to fall into another cycle, he wasn't sure. Maybe because this one wasn't beaming with red flags. Or maybe because this one didn't leave him feeling like an unlovable mess the next day. Despite how many times he told himself that he wouldn't repeat what he'd done with Dana, he still found himself picking you up from every trip at the airport. Then again, this wasn't anything like the situation with Dana. Your relationship with him was healthy, you were good for him.

You'd usually end up at Miguel's apartment rather than your hotel room for most of the nights. The pent up frustration that had accumulated throughout the past year was unleashed on another, the sex all just that much more intense. "Couldn't stop thinking about seeing you again," he whispered against your skin, the words turning you into putty in his grasp. His kisses could follow soon after, his touch almost burning with how much desire he'd pent up. "Oh? And what were you planning on doing when you did see me again?" he would spend all night giving you the answer to that question.

On most occasions, you'd end up with your face buried in a pillow while he fucked you from behind. Your muffled moans would fill up the room, combined with the sound of rustling sheets underneath you as your grip tightened. "I missed you, princesa," he bent down to whisper in your ear, his lips trailing down your shoulder blade. The action in itself was sweet enough, but you couldn't focus on that with the way that his cock was stretching you out. "Missed you too," you barely managed to babble, your voice coming out hoarse.

Your hips rocked back into his, your ass jiggling with every thrust that he made. The grip he had on your hips would tighten, his balls slapping obscenely against your wet cunt. Your walls would clench around his cock, milking him for all the cum that he had in his balls while simultaneously coating his length with every drop of your slick that you could offer. "Fuck, right there!" he could make out a couple words of what you were saying from time to time, but he couldn't help but want to tease you about it. "Yeah, right here?" he mocked, his rhythm never faltering.

You were so drunk off his dick that you didn't realize he was mocking you half the time, simply nodding in response to whatever he told you. "Yeah, right there!" He loved the way your voice rose whenever his finger came down to play with your clit, the way the nub throbbed beneath his fingers for some kind of stimulation. These little breathy moans that you were letting out, the whispers of his name, they'd all remain imprinted in his memory as material whenever he needed some kind of release. That is, until the following year when he would have new material to work off of.

Miguel loved the way you looked whenever you were excited to share something with him or the way your eyes lit up whenever you saw him at the airport waiting for you with a bag from your favorite fast food place. But the way that you looked whenever you unraveled underneath him was something that just simply couldn't be topped. Your legs shook violently as your orgasm approached, your walls tightening all that much more around him before unclenching to coat his cock in your release. His orgasm would follow suit, his cum filling up your cunt up to the brim.

Despite the fact that the two of you were completely able to and sometimes were even encouraged to, the two of you stayed loyal to one another even if this arrangement had no need to. As much as you wanted to try dating someone else, you knew that in the back of your head you'd just try to find Miguel in another person. And that you'd ultimately end up disappointed by the end of the affair. The two of you provided a sense of comfort in one another that wasn't easily replicated by another person. Or at least, you hoped that he felt the same way about you.

And as much as he tried, he couldn't get his hand to simulate the same pleasure that he felt while fucking you. It felt like a cheap replacement if he was being completely honest. His fist couldn't clench around his cock the way that your walls did, pulsing as your cunt milked him for all it could. His spit couldn't compare to the way your slick coated his shaft completely, the loud squelch that bounced off his walls whenever he pulled out. As pathetic as he felt for being looking forward to your yearly appearance, nothing could give him the same satisfaction you did.

You came back to Nueva York with a mission this time around. The office that you'd been working at after getting your degree had expanded throughout most of the east coast, a shiny job opportunity appearing right at your doorstep. You were going to tell Miguel that you planned on staying this time around, that you wanted to rekindle the old feelings you'd both been trying to suppress. You'd even resorted to practicing what you were going to say to him while you were on the airplane instead of clicking on one of the stupid Hallmark movies available on the flight.

Bought a wedding ring, it's in my pocket

You'd practically been bubbling with anticipation for the entire plane ride, different thoughts of how Miguel would react rummaging through your mind. Would he be excited? Would he leave the party to be with you? You felt all the breath leave your lungs as you stepped inside the party hall, your attention immediately going to Miguel. He wasn't wearing something too fancy, a white button down shirt and a pair of black slacks. Even then, you couldn't lie to yourself that he looked like sex on legs.

You set down the small gift bag you'd brought over for Gabriel, a new set of tools you heard him mention he needed on a FaceTime call last week. You made your way over to Miguel, a small smile appearing on your face as a look of recognition flashed across his features. "Hey," you greeted him once you were close, your hand up in a wave. Before he got the chance to say something, a woman came over to the two of you and handed him a drink before remaining by his side.

"Are you one of Miguel's friends from around here?" you asked the woman, given the fact that you hadn't heard any mention of her from Gabriel.

"Uh, no. This is actually my fiancée, Tempest," Miguel spoke up for the first time this night, your eyes widening as you did a double take on the pair standing in front of you. They'd even color coordinated their outfits tonight.

You could've sworn your heart dropped to your chest at the word fiancée. You forced your face to remain neutral despite the conflicting emotions rummaging inside of you. Your gaze flickered over to the woman, her ring finger accentuated with a pretty silver band, an expensive-looking diamond plastered right in the middle of it. Your throat constricted the longer that you stared at the ring, the sight eventually blurring into nothing until you forced yourself to look away when she pulled her hand back.

Your mind began to swarm with different thoughts, wondering when exactly did Miguel find the time to get engaged. Last year when you saw him, he hadn't even mentioned having any sort of commitment towards anyone. It was funny, thinking about it now. He'd taken you to the airport, his head tilting down to give you a small kiss on the cheek as he bid you goodbye. "I'll see you next year," he told you before you went through airport security. Now you wish you would've went back to his apartment instead of back home.

"Nice to meet you," you forced the words to roll out of your mouth, an unnatural smile taking place on your face. The type of smile that had your cheeks hurting from how hard you were forcing it. you shook her hand with just a little too much force before reminding yourself that it wasn't exactly her fault. If anything, this situation had been your fault. your fault for being so used to this comfortability, of the knowledge that he'd always be here waiting for you.

You'd gotten so used to coming to Nueva York to find Miguel at your beck and call that it didn't even cross your mind he would find someone. Someone who prioritized his happiness as much as he prioritized theirs. "Nice to meet you as well, Miggy here's told me a lot about you," she responded with a warm smile, unbeknownst to the internal struggles that rummaged through your head. Miggy? He'd gotten so pissed off when you called him that, but now he was acting casual about it?

"You mentioned that there was something you wanted to talk to me about?" Miguel's voice broke you out of your train of thought, making you realize you'd just been standing there awkwardly for a couple seconds. You looked away, the sight of him too painful to bear. Just the fact that the woman's arm was wrapped around his, the intimacy of the situation reminding you of what you'd never have again.

"Never mind, just forget it. I hope the two of you have a good time at this party. Congratulations once more," despite the fact that you had a million questions regarding the situation, you decided that it would be better not to ask them. At the end of the day, a couple questions wouldn't change the fact that he was still engaged. You forced yourself to remain polite before excusing yourself to go to the drinks table. You really needed to get fucked up right now.

You felt pathetic as you stood alone in the corner of the room, your fingers gripping the glass of beer as if it was your lifeline. All you could do was look out into the people smiling and having fun, a part of you wishing that it would be you instead. You tried your hardest to pretend when Gabriel came around, trying to dance with you, but the ploy fell through as soon as he dragged you to the dance floor. Your eyes met Miguel's for the first time that night, a flash of concern across his features after seeing your attempts to hide your pain.

But maybe, if you would've looked hard enough, you would've been able to see the same sense of longing lingering behind his eyes.

tag list 🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02 @lizaistewdelulu @swiftiegirliepop

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personasintro · 5 months

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A part of Mutual Help series!

pairing: mh!jungkook x reader

warnings: explicit language, Kiko is mentioned (this deserves it's own warning)

genre: fluff

word count: 1.8k+

a/n: Merry Christmas! ♡

Mutual Help Series

“Oooh, what could be in here?” Taehyung muses, pursing his reddened lips that has gotten its own intense color thanks to the cold weather outside.

What was he doing outside when you've been at this place for around an hour? Flirting, of course.

“Knowing you, probably tons of condoms.” you answer, causing Taehyung to stop shaking the present he's just gotten from Jimin. It stops rattling under his grip as he shoots you a glare across the table.

Unfazed, you reach with your chopsticks for a piece of meat before you put it in your mouth. Next to you, Jungkook cackles under his breath and Jimin looks proud by your little comment.

“Well, miss I-don't-need-anyone, we all like to have our fun. Maybe you should try it.” Taehyung bites back. Though his tone sounds serious and deep with his thick accent, there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

You know how far you can take it to joke with each of your friends. Taehyung's got a thick skin and there's only so little you could actually say to offend him. Not that you would ever want to. Taehyung loves jokes and fun, he loves teasing and most of the time he's the one who takes it too far but never to actually cause a damage to your friendship. Whatever he says, you know should not be taken to heart literally. Therefore, no matter what he says about your single life – you don't take it as an insult.

“Hooking up with a bunch of strangers? No thanks.”

He grins, “Maybe you should try it.”

“You offering?” you shoot right back, Jungkook choking on his soda as Jimin laughs out loud.

“You know what? Once you grow up a little, text me.”

You snort, “Stop acting as if I was a child.”

Taehyung shrugs, “No, but you're the baby of our group.”

Groaning, you frown. “Don't call me that.”

“Deny it all you want, Y/L/N but we all know the truth.”

“You guys scare almost every guy that looks at me. It beats the point of having fun.”

“Don't say shit like that, now! I'm all for you exploring and having fun.”

“Our point of fun is slightly different than hers, Tae.” Jimin comments, putting more meat to your plate as you thank him with a grateful smile. For the meat, of course. Although, he's not that off about the entire fun topic.

“We all know what kind of fun we're talking about.”

“Alright, let's move on, yeah?” Jungkook calls, shaking his head at Taehyung.

“Here we go, protective Jungkook.”

“Why do you always somehow bring up sex in every conversation?” Jungkook scolds him.

Taehyung gasps, feigning offense as he points his finger at you. “First of all, she started talking about condoms!”

Jimin laughs out loud while you shoot him a glare for being too loud. God, you hope the owners won't kick you out. Talking so publicly about sex is often frowned upon. No one who wants to enjoy their meal wants to hear someone talking about sex from the other table. Unless those people are… open like Taehyung. He's always been a bit shameless.

Jungkook glances at you upon Taehyung's finger that's directed toward you. You shrug innocently. “So what? You automatically got into it.”

“You know it doesn't take too much for me.”

“That's true.” Jimin nods along with Taehyung's response.

You laugh, “Just open the goddamn present, Tae.”

He cracks a grin and starts laughing before he rips the package open. Surprisingly, it's not condoms – you would seriously laugh your ass out if it were – but it's a box of popular male fragrances in smaller versions. You recognize all of them, silently praising Jimin for this year's present.

You all exchange presents for each other. There was an idea coming from Jimin, you think, last year to pick up a secret Santa for each year. But there's something special and thoughtful about buying everyone a gift. And it makes a slight burden to all your wallets, but nobody said the presents have to be expensive. Yet, they're always meaningful and nobody gives shitty presents here.

You meet every year before Christmas since all of you spend it with your families. You've decided to make your own and celebrate it together, even if it's beforehand. This year it has to be because you're flying back home sooner than usual.

They were kind enough to meet no matter what, said it wouldn't be the same if you weren't here.

After that is done, Jungkook is the one to take you home since Taehyung came to pick you up. There's fog everywhere with snow sitting down and not melting anytime soon. You love when there's snow around Christmas time.

On your way home, it's not that late by the time you arrive. Jungkook helps you with your presents upstairs and accepts a cup of tea you offer him with a stern look. You're quick to shed the layers of clothes and make yourself more comfortable. You bring Jungkook his tea and make a hot chocolate for yourself.

“What you got in there?” you ask, plopping next to him as the warmth and scent of home hugs you.

“A little something,” he says with a cheeky grin.

Spotting the same Christmas wrapping paper he has used for all his presents, you give him a knowing look. You're about to protest and scold the shit out of him when he shakes his head with another grin.

“Stop.”

“No, you stop!” you whine, “You already gave me your present.”

And it was great. Jungkook has given you two tickets to a water park that's located on Jeju Island. That alone tells you it wasn't quite cheap.

“It's not much, I swear.”

“But why? We all decided on one present.”

Grateful that he's so thoughtful, you're slightly annoyed that he broke the rule that perhaps never was so serious but it makes you feel bad.

“Just because.”

“That's not a valid reason.”

“Sounds very valid to me,” he sings out, teasing you a little further as you both giggle. “You'll understand it once you open it.” he finishes it with that, urging you to open it.

Hiding the heat in your cheeks, you playfully roll your eyes and start unboxing the little box he has managed to sneak in his jacket. Curiosity and excitement takes over you because Jungkook's presents are always something else. You rip the package and gasp as soon as you recognize the familiar box.

“Kook!”

“You told me you ran out the other day.”

“Did you–”

“Bought it when Jimin bought Taehyung's present? Yeah.” He answers, already knows what you were about to ask. But you're too stunned to scold him for interrupting you.

You open the box and pull out your favorite perfume. A few weeks ago, you don't even know how that conversation came up but you mentioned to him that your perfume is running out indeed. It wasn't anything intentional of course, more of a whine when you were about to spray a tiny amount as you were about to go out. You thought he was barely listening to you, urging you to rush out your ass outside. His exact words.

But he's always listening.

“I think I'm gonna be more careful what I'm about to say in front of you. You're gonna buy me everything I mentioned.” you chuckle, taking a good inhale of your favorite flowery and powdery scent. You mostly use it during warm seasons but it's a good one even in the winter.

It's your staple scent. Everyone knows it. It's special. You were using it back at home and it not only smells incredible, it also holds a certain emotional attachment you have with it.

“Don't worry about that, you're out of my budget.”

You kick the side of his thigh as you cross your legs under your butt, carefully placing the bottle on the table next to the ripped wrapping paper. “I wanted to buy it after Christmas.”

“You don't have to anymore.”

You give him a look, questioning his answer for everything as he simply justifies his thoughtfulness in the most basic manner. He always brushes it like it's nothing. But it's very special to you. He is.

In seconds, you wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly. He lets out a surprised gasp, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he hugs you back. He's warm, smells like a mixture of his wooden cologne and winter air.

“Thank you.” you mumble into his shoulder before you slowly pull away. “But seriously, you should stop spending so much money on me. Don't you have a girlfriend to spend money on?”

As far as you know, she's fine with it but who knows. Jungkook isn't the type to let anyone get into your or guys' friendships. But he's also in love and people in love tend to be slightly blind, if you must say so. Not that you speak from your own experiences but well, it's quite known. And Jungkook is definitely in love.

“Don't worry about Kiko,” he assures you, “She'll get a good amount of presents too.”

“Well, I hope she loves you for you and not for your bank account.”

He scowls, causing you to give him a childish toothy grin that acts innocent. “She's not like that.”

“But I'm serious, you should stop spending so much money on people. Especially on me.”

“I spend my money however I want and you know what?” he asks with a grin, leaning closer to you as you watch him with wide eyes. “It's none of your business.” he flicks your nose with his thumb causing you to cuss him out as you push his forehead to get him away from your proximity.

“So really, just accept it.”

“You're stubborn.”

“You're telling me?” he laughs out loud as if you just told him the biggest joke.

Rolling your eyes again, you purse your lips. “I wanted to be nice, you moron.”

“Be nice by just accepting it. And the simple thanks is just enough, not needed though. The hug was very nice.”

You slap his arm in a teasing manner which causes him to laugh even more. “I'll hug you for the rest of my life.”

“Promise?” he smirks.

“I promise.” you giggle, nodding.

“Well, then Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Kook.” you smile, the warmth spreading all over your heart. Even though this year hasn't been all rainbow and sunshine, it's alright as long as you have these people right beside you.

Who cares about presents? They're nice and show the thoughtfulness behind them by each of your friends. What you need the most is just them. And the special relationship you have with each of them will hopefully last your lifetime. Because if it doesn't, nothing will ever be the same.

Without them you would feel lost. At the moment, you're anything but lost. You have your second family, hoping this tradition between you never dies and will continue years and years.

#bts fluff #bts angst #bts au #bts smut #mutual help #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #personasintro

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cloudshapedpatch · 2 years

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on one hand, this guy is pretty mediocre and im so disappointed that i wasted almost two years on a (mostly) superficial crush

and on the other hand, i am absolutely heartbroken anyway

#lovely mumblings #i would have rather be laughed at and then made a fool in front of the whole party than this #doesn't matter cause the whole party knew we were fucking anyway BUT #im mortified! and i feel so downright unwanted #he said he has always found me attractive but just never thought about me romantically or sexually #how tf?? everyone has formed a crush on their coworker at least once!#he said that i was his favorite coworker first and a great friend after we stopped working together and he just never thought about it #it was apparently a total surprise #the way it has NEVER crossed his mind either means he just cannot fathom me as a potential partner or that he's too respectful #knowing him i don't have high hopes.#of course he said this AFTER we slept together and i mistakenly spent the night #only to wake up to him in a chair across the room waiting for me to wake up for my brother to drive us home #couldn't even lay in bed with me? and he doesn't want to talk about it either #it was just sex to him. i wanna cry.#and THEN he said we should do it more often?! have sex every time we get drunk?!#HELLO?! i said we'll see cause i didn't want him to know how upset i was but what the fuck #no way #he's one of the only friends i have who truly see me as non-binary. and he said he normally only likes women but the way he said it made me #feel like a weird experiment to him. like i know i should be happy he sees me as enby but im literally a femme afab enby it's not that deep #you know that sabrina carpenter song Can't Blame A Girl For Trying #yeah #i feel so empty and unwanted and i hate that he's done this to me!#and i can't even be mad at him. he didn't do it to be mean that's just not like him.#what else are you supposed to do when a pretty girl throws herself at you? he just doesn't like me that much.#i want to be so mad at him but i have no reason to. so i just get to cry instead

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satuguro · 1 year

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⠀⠀ ⠀ཾ ༚ 20/20 VISION

lalala! ethan landry x okokok! reader

#SYNOPSIS— based off of see you again by tyler the creater & kali uchis; you have no gag reflex, ethan tells a sex joke, and ethan takes a leap of faith.

#CONTAINS— best friends to lovers, mutual pining, jealousy, emetophobia, fluff

#AUTHORSNOTE— i've been wanting to write fluff lately so.. here you go xx

your unofficial designated spot in the carpenter sisters' apartment was their armchair in their living room.

you had a list of reasons why; one, it meant more space. you could stretch your legs, not worry about feeling someone's feet near your legs, and you could have your own blanket. all somewhat selfish reasons, but you loved your space. two, it had the perfect angle towards the t.v. that gave you the best spot in the living room to watch it without worrying about discomfort.

which was why you would've been mildly perturbed that someone was standing between you and the t.v. the only difference was that it wasn't just someone; it was someone who rambled too often, who had no sense of personal space while also being hyper aware of it, and who was a flurry of random facts (which wouldn't help him at all, unless someone held a gun to his head and told him to name and point at every country’s capital in the world).

"i've done it," ethan announced to you, his signature toothy smile seemingly more victorious as he looked down at where you were snuggled up on the couch. his well manicured nails (he asked you to do them once, and who were you to deny your best friend?) held his laptop, the screen facing his chest.

"aren't you supposed to be studying?" you asked him with a small tilt of your head, glancing at where the rest of the group was. finals week was beating everyone up, and you could briefly see mindy and chad chugging a redbull at the same time while tara timed them, before you turned back to your best friend.

"i gave up."

"you need to study."

"you gave up, too!" ethan looked down at the huge blanket that you hogged for yourself, not even thinking twice before he was climbing in next to you.

"ow— ethan!" you groaned, feeling him step on your leg.

"'scuse me!" ethan forced himself under the blanket you were snuggled under, making you share your beloved armchair with him before he sighed contentedly. "this is comfortable! maybe i should share this seat with you more often!" he said with a bright grin, making you sigh reluctantly. "i mean if you don't want to then it's fine too!" ethan added hurriedly with wide eyes.

"i was just saying that i wouldn't mind sharing with you because usually you sit alone— which i know you prefer, you've told me so many times and i get it! i really do! but i wouldn't mind sitting with you to keep you company because i really like being with you— around you. your presence. yeah, that." ethan rambled, finishing his string of words with a sheepish smile, cheeks flaring a bit red. "i'm sorry for rambling." he added quietly.

your usually tired eyes softened at that. he had always been insecure of how much he talked, you knew that better than anyone. "i've told you before, e, i don't mind. i like listening to you," you hummed, a downturned smile on your lips. "i like your presence too. and i guess i don't mind sharing my seat with you."

ethan's cheeks flared red at your casual words. you had a way of speaking so calmly, as though all your words were chosen well. in a way, he was a bit jealous.

"you had something to tell me, yeah?" you asked him softly, bringing him back on track.

"oh, right!" ethan showed you his laptop, setting it up on your legs. it was a notion list, color coordinated and everything, with an entire list of shows and movies you remember only briefly mentioning to him. "i made this list—"

"just now? instead of studying?"

"yes! so basically, it has a section where we can rate it after we watch it, and it's all organized by what we want to watch the most and what we need to finish!" ethan scrolled down the list, practically buzzing with excitement (and the cold brew he drank earlier).

"see? i know that i have a whole essay to do but i can do it later—" ethan said, waving it off with his hand. "because i know you said you would do it but i got impatient and did it instead! and look—" he showed you the wide variety of colors for every row. "they're color coordinated! and here's how i think the rating system should go—"

you had watched ethan talk the entire time he rambled, your usually tired and indifferent eyes softening when you listened to him speak. he talked fast— too fast for some people, but you liked that about him—but the way he rambled showed how passionate he was about different topics, because ethan only rambled when he cared.

it showed how much he appreciated what he was talking about. and ever time his cadence picked up and his words became jumbled and he began interrupting himself, you could see how ethan's brown eyes would shine with excitement. you could see how he began incorporating his hands to his words, how his lips tilted up when he talked.

you were so engrossed in ethan's explanation of the movie and t.v. show list that you failed to notice your friends staring at you from the dining table.

"they are disgustingly cute," tara said with a sigh.

"and disgustingly oblivious," mindy grumbled, clicking her pen over and over. "with how smart the both of them are, i'm surprised they haven't picked up on the clues." she turned to chad, who was sulking after losing the redbull chugging competition against her. "have you asked ethan about it yet? you're our in on this, chad!"

chad groaned as mindy nudged him with her shoulder. "i did. he didn't even respond. it's crazy how he can avoid conversations, you know."

you didn't like parties. not as much as your friends did— you were usually the designated driver or the friend that was always sober enough to take care of their friends, which you didn't mind. it was the socializing part that you minded.

you socialized okay, but you often just ended up listening to other people rather than talking. listening was more your style, but you were only a little awkward when it came to talking to complete (and possibly intoxicated) strangers at parties. you stuck with your group of friends and very rarely strayed away.

but ethan was the designated sober friend this time around, so maybe that would change.

three loud knocks to your dorm room made you go and open it, coming eye to eye with ethan. "you're walking me there?" you asked with a knowing smile, making the boy nod eagerly.

"yup! chad's walking with tara and mindy's going with anika, so that leaves you and me." ethan grinned at you teasingly. "why, you're getting tired of me already?"

"no," you hummed, closing your dorm room behind you as the both of you began to walk down the hall. "you're really not drinking tonight, huh?"

"nope!" ethan replied, popping the 'p'. "after i threw up all over sam that one time we drank at the apartment, and then i threw up on you right after, i told myself that i'd hold back on it."

you wrinkled your nose at the memory. "how responsible of you."

"i know, right?" ethan said with a proud smile. "but because i threw up on you that time, i give you full permission to throw up on me this time."

"i'm not gonna be that drunk."

that was a lie.

to say that your friends were shocked to see you become a more extraverted person after drinking would be an understatement. they were used to you observing the group and contributing to conversations with sarcastic comments, dry humor, and dark jokes that are often made much too soon. so to see you take a shot with tara and squeal happily with her (true friend solidarity; she was as drunk as you were) was completely out of the ordinary.

"i'm gonna go find chad!" tara yelled over the music, making you nod happily and watch her leave. adrenaline and excitement began to thrum through your body stronger, and your first thought was to share it with your favorite person. you began to walk around, searching for ethan, before you bumped into a chest.

"oh, shit! i'm so sorry," the guy laughed, making you send him an apologetic smile.

"it's okay!" you said, taking in his black hair and his brown eyes (that only reminded you of ethan). "i'm y/n!"

the guy smiled at you, offering his hand out. "jaden!" he seemed to be as intoxicated as you were, his steps wobbling slightly as you shook his hand. "do you, uh, wanna dance?"

"hey, where's y/n?" ethan asked tara as she passed him, making her look back towards the drinks table.

"she should just be around where the drinks are.." tara's voice trailed off when her eyes landed on you not too far away. your arms were around a guy's neck— was that jaden from her philosophy lecture? —as you swayed with him to the music. you seemed to be having a good time, the alcohol making you lighthearted as you sang with whatever song was playing through the speakers. "there she is!"

when ethan saw you, his heart fell. you looked so beautiful under the multicolored lights, your hair perfectly styled and your clothes fitting you perfectly as you danced with someone who wasn't him. your smile— your genuine one, ethan noted with his chest aching, the one that made your eyes crinkle and your smile lopsided —was pointed towards someone who wasn't him.

jealousy brewed in his chest along with the heartache, ethan's jaw clenching as he stared at you and the random guy. but he didn't step in. he didn't pull you away and declare his feelings for you, because at the end of the night, you were happy. content as you danced with someone who wasn't ethan at all.

chad came up next to tara, his arm over her shoulders as he steadied her. "hey man, where's y/n?" he asked, still fairly sober than everyone as he had only taken one shot.

"she's doing fine," ethan said, his voice monotone as he continued staring at you. it was unfair how beautiful you looked while you unknowingly broke his heart with every laugh and every flirtatious smile you sent towards your dance partner.

"what?" chad looked in the direction ethan was staring, his face falling when he saw you and jaden. easily connecting the dots, he looked at ethan empathetically. "fuck. dude, i'm sorry."

"it's okay, really," ethan said with a tight lipped smile. but he couldn't keep his eyes off of you and him, the fact that you looked so happy pulling at his chest because he wanted you to be happy with him. he wanted you to look at him the way you looked at that random stranger.

and finally, as you did a twirl into jaden’s arms, you made eye contact with ethan. oblivious to the way his jaw clenched and his eyes lost the spark they usually had, you gently pulled yourself out of jaden's arms. your steps were wobbly, and you nearly crashed into ethan's chest when you finally walked up to him. ethan's arms went to steady you easily.

"ethan, i feel like throwing up," you murmured, and ethan nodded in understanding, worry taking over his jealousy.

"okay, let's get you to the bathroom, okay?" ethan said softly, pulling you close to him as he guided you to the bathroom. he knocked on the door, thankful no one responded, before he opened it for you. he locked the door behind the both of you as you made a beeline for the toilet, grabbing the side of it as you readied yourself to throw up.

but nothing came out.

“go on!” ethan encouraged you, motioning to the toilet. but instead, you looked up at him warily.

“do i have to?”

“yes?” ethan gaped at you, motioning to the toilet again. “just go ahead! nothing to fear!”

“i don’t want to.”

“c’mon, y/n, why not?” ethan whined, making you groan as you stopped yourself from throwing up yet again.

“i have emetophobia, asshole,” you muttered, gently pushing his arm. “fear of throwing up? and,” you messily pushed some of your hair away from your face. “i have no gag reflex.”

“what the hell?” ethan crinkled his nose, blushing furiously as he looked at you in shock. you were honest, sure but never this honest. “i could’ve gone my whole life without knowing that.”

“are you sure?”

“what?” ethan said quickly, eyes wider than ever as he stared at you as you snorted in amusement. “you’re kidding.”

“maybe.”

“maybe?” he swallowed thickly, shutting his eyes and pinching his nose bridge. “oh god, you definitely have to throw up now.”

“watch this.” you took two of your fingers and stuffed them all the way to the back of your throat, smiling triumphantly as you showed ethan your lack of a gag reflex.

ethan could only watch in horror and exasperation. “y/n, i didn’t need proof. i already believed you.” he took some squares of toilet paper before offering it to you.

“i told you so,” you hummed, pulling your saliva covered finger out of your mouth and wiping them on the toilet paper. there was a beat of silence before ethan coughed, his cheeks and ears still burning red.

“can i make a joke?”

“of course you can.”

“it’s a, uh,” ethan cleared his throat, avoiding your intent gaze, “sex joke.”

“even better.” you situated yourself next to the toilet, still very much feeling like you were gonna hurl at any given moment.

ethan sat next to you, clearing his throat again. “i know one way we can test your gag reflex,” he stated, almost ashamed at his own joke.

you chuckled at that, the horrible joke making a you sway a bit with laughter before the sudden motion sickness got to you. without another word, you threw up into the toilet. all thanks to ethan’s horrible sex joke.

he immediately reached over to move some of your hair. you continued retching into the toilet, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "i hate drinking," you grumbled as you laid your forehead on your arm, eyes watery from throwing up. immediately as you got the words out, you threw up again.

"i know, i know.. but i know you're gonna end up drinking again," ethan teased softly, making your back heave as you managed a laugh, only for it to be interrupted by you throwing up again. "it's okay, let it all out." he couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped his lips. “i can’t believe a sex joke made you throw up.”

and you almost laughed again if you didn’t throw up even more.

the sound of the party died into the background as ethan sat next to you on the ground. your head was laying on your arm, which was on the toilet seat. you were still intoxicated, and the world was still spinning, but you could see the obvious turmoil on ethan's face. you poked his arm. "what's wrong?"

"what?" ethan said, snapping out of his daze to send you a tight lipped smile. "nothing's wrong."

"liar."

"i'm not!"

"i know you better than that, e," you murmured, half lidded eyes staring at him. you had thrown up most of your alcohol, and while you were still inebriated, you felt a lot more clear headed than earlier. “what's wrong?"

ethan looked at you, eyes flashing with hurt as he pictured you again dancing with someone else. "do you really want to know?" he asked you, and you nodded. even while drunk, you opted to listen.

"you looked beautiful when you were dancing," ethan began, managing a soft smile, "i don't think i've ever seen you like that. it's not a bad thing or a good thing, but it's a new thing, y'know?" he sighed. "you dance really well, i'm surprised you haven't told me," a genuine smile appeared on his face when he heard you laugh quietly. "and your laugh.. i swear i would listen to it over whatever horrible music is playing right now."

ethan looked at you, taking in your obviously roughed up and intoxicated form. but somehow, even with slightly messy hair and most of your make-up rubbed off and with your breath smelling only a little bit like puke, you still looked beautiful. it was enough to make someone who talked as much as him to go quiet in awe.

"but when you laughed, and when you smiled,” ethan said slowly, taking in heavy breaths with every word. fear thrummed through his body, mingling with the nervousness as he twiddled with his fingers anxiously. to continue on would be to admit everything. to admit how he felt, the thoughts he had been having about you, everything. and to admit it to you would be to risk losing a friendship and one of the most important people in his life.

“.. you weren’t smiling or laughing at me. and i hated that.”

confusion spread over your face before realization hit your eyes. “oh.” and oh, it suddenly all made sense. why ethan was so bothered, why you were so willing to listen to one person speak for forever as long as it was them, why even as you danced with another, something was off because he wasn’t ethan. he wasn’t your best friend.

“you don’t have to say anything,” ethan mumbled, completely misinterpreting your realization for rejection. his eyes watered slightly as he avoided your gaze. “it’s been going on for a while now, and i get it if you don’t feel the same! i really do, it’s just,” he sighed shakily, “i don’t want to lose you—”

“ethan—”

“i was completely willing to just shut up about how i felt as long as that meant i could still have you in my life, y/n,” ethan said, looking into your eyes earnestly. “and i thought i could keep it under wraps but i have to tell you at least once because—”

“i love you.”

“what?” ethan blinked, making you smile, your head still resting on your arm.

“i love you, ethan.”

a toothy smile spread over his face at that, his shoulders relaxing as he searched your face for any doubt. “are you— are you sure?”

“i wouldn’t say it if i wasn’t,” you murmured softly as you raised your head, making ethan laugh in relief.

“holy shit— i love you too.” ethan said, leaning forward, only for you to stop him.

“e, i might throw up on you if you kiss me.”

“do you think i care?”

#scream 6 imagines #scream 6 smut #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x y/n #scream fanfic #scream 6 fanfic #ethan landry fanfiction #scream 6 imagine #scream vi imagine #scream vi smut #scream vi imagines

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kelstey · 3 months

Text

Deja Vu

mattheo riddle x reader

warnings : smut

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

your back slammed against the wall, mattheo's body pressed up to the front of you as the two of you eagerly made out. you weren't meant to be in this position, but the two of you couldn't seem to get enough of each other.

his hand clung to your waist tightly, his lips hungrily kissing down your jaw then down your neck. he was bound to leave marks that everyone would see for the next few days.

"mattheo," you moaned out.

"yes?" he looked up at you as he pressed kisses down the valley between your breasts.

"we shouldn't be doing this," you said, it was a lie. you most definitely should be doing this. you needed him so bad. the two of you had broken up a few months prior - it was toxic.

there were too many arguments over the smallest and petty things. the two of you eventually had enough of each other and ended things, but the feelings were very much still there - unbeknownst to your friends that you would sneak out most nights to meet mattheo.

they'd be so disappointed if they knew that you were busy getting your brains fucked out every night and not just 'going on a walk to clear your head'.

"if you don't want this, then why are you so soaked for me, hmm?" mattheo's fingers teased you through your skirt.

"shut up," a smile broke onto your face as he smirked at your reaction.

he knew you couldn't get enough of him - no matter how many times you said you hated him. you both knew you both loved each other, and likely always would.

it only made the breakup harder to get over whenever you were having sex with another guy. turns out moaning out your exes name during sex was not the best idea.

you didn't mean to, it simply slipped out. how else were you meant to finish with the thought of somebody else? even fucking others boys wasn't that good. they never filled you or stretched you the way mattheo did.

they didn't know your body the way mattheo did. your sweet spots, the way you love your hair getting pulled, the mix of degradation and praise.

the way that you loved the feeling of getting choked - especially in missionary which mattheo always loved as he always thought it was more intimate.

that and the way he could watch each singular expression on your face as he cause you multiple orgasms within minutes of each other. you would be physically unable to walk for hours - even sometimes days afterwards.

"i need you so bad," mattheo lifted your body and placed you down onto his bed. the only other bed you ever felt safe in.

mattheo took your bra off with one hand, something he had perfected with you. without a second to spare his mouth enclosed itself around one of your nipples, and a hand toying around with the other just the way you like it.

you threw your head back onto the pillow, the way he could satisfy you without always penetrating you was endearing.

"stop teasing," you moaned.

"i thought you loved it when i did that?" mattheo peppered kisses down your stomach, stopping just above your skirt.

"i do but i need your dick in me right fucking now," mattheo obliged happily - whatever you asked, you received.

within seconds he slid himself into, despite the million times you've had sex with him - you could never fully get used to his large size. he was always slow at first as he slid in and out of you, making sure to tease you and have you begging for more.

then he'd work up his pace, his mouth reattaching back onto your nipple, the other hand around your neck as you turned into a moaning, whimpering mess underneath him.

the sounds of you alone made him cum. he would often get himself off to the beautiful sound of you screaming his name when he was alone. the thought of simply your face could get him off too.

"gonna be a good girl for me and cum around my cock?" mattheo panted as he felt himself draw closer to finishing. "look at you, covered in my hickies. only i can give you them, no one else. i want everyone to know you're mine."

"no fucking way," pansy's jaw nearly dropped, you looked up at her as you were eating.

"what?" you asked.

"mattheo and cho? what an unusual pairing," you felt your heart break into pieces, mattheo? the same one who was saying he loved you a couple days ago?

"what do you mean?" you looked around the hall and your eyes fell upon the pair. he was sat a couple rows down at your table, cho sat on his lap. you watched as he played with her hair, a hand on her thigh as he spoke to his friends. the same way he used to do with you.

"do you want to leave? i think the breakfast i just ate is away to come back up," pansy lightly laughed, unsure of how to react to you. she wasn't sure wether you were about to explode with laughter, heartbreak or anger.

"yeah let's," you quickly got up from the table and left with pansy by your side.

mattheo's eyes fell onto you as you left the hall, had you seen him? he was desperate to get your attention despite having a whole other girl on his lap.

you had his still fresh hickies on your body - but he was already with another girl. was he playing some sort of sick joke? who does that?

you sat on draco's lap, giving him a kiss on the cheek as he spoke away to blaise. "hey baby," you smiled at him.

"hey babe," he smiled back at you, you couldn't help but internally cringe as you pretended to be coupled up with draco.

he was there when you spotted mattheo with cho on his lap, he quickly ran after you and made a deal. he had been wanting some other slytherin girl's attention, and thought it would be an amazing idea if you two pretended to date.

you could make mattheo mad, and draco could then possibly try get with his girl. you were more than happy - belated at the proposal. except for the fact you had to be all lovey dovey with draco.

he was hot to say the least, but 'dating' someone you always thought of as a friend was slightly weird. but it wasn't unexpected as the two of you had your moments where you flirted - only innocently, of course.

draco's hand was on your thigh as you joined in the conversation between him and blaise, some random stuff as usual. you heard someone walk into the room - not even bothering to look as you could already smell the scent of vanilla, cigarettes and a slight woody smell.

mattheo riddle.

he cleared his throat, coughing. this caught the attention of the three of you, all turning around in unison to look at the boy. his fists were clenched at his side, eyes burning into both you and draco.

"didnt know you and malfoy were a thing now," mattheo's words seemed harsh - wether he meant them to be or not.

"nothing official," you flashed mattheo a fake smile.

"yeah, right," he said before sitting down on the sofa opposite the two of you. his eyes didn't leave you once, well, mainly draco's pale hand that was placed extremely highly on your thigh.

"something wrong, riddle?" you tilted your head to the side as you noticed his eyes focused on draco's hand.

"fine," he spat out.

"well, my dorm?" draco asked you and you nodded, wanting to escape the high-tension situation. you got up and fixed your skirt as draco also got up.

draco placed his hand on your lower back, walking you out of the common room. you looked back to see mattheo's eyes burning holes into the back of you. you turned back around, smirking at yourself.

"you think it's working?" you asked draco.

"is that even a question? he looked like he was away to cave my head in," draco sat on the edge of his bed, his arms supporting him. was it bad to say he looked incredibly hot? his school shirt was rolled up just above his elbows, revealing his veins.

"you know what i think would piss him off even more?" you walked over to draco, standing between his legs.

"what's that?" he smirked.

"if we fucked," you placed your fingers underneath his chin, making him look up at you. his hands travelled up the side of your thighs, then stopping at your hips.

"you don't need to tell me twice."

draco malfoy was a better shag than you originally thought. he pleased you in all sorts of ways - switching between being submissive and letting you ride him to dominate where he pounded any remaining dignity you had left, out of you.

you told him not to be shy on leaving hickies and any sort of marks. he didn't take that lightly either.

"draco are you fucking joking me?! i cant even cover half of these!" you scolded him, your fingers went over the sensitive purple on your neck.

"you told me to not be shy," he shrugged as he slipped back into his uniform.

you rolled your eyes, "draco where are my tights?" you panicked. you nearly flipped his whole room upside down trying to find any sign of the thin black material. you pulled your skirt up from the back of your thighs, spotting the dark red hand marks draco left.

"i didn't even realise you had that in you," you turned around to draco, referring to the large hand marks.

"you wanted to make him jealous," he said.

"jealous, yes, not to murder me or you! he's gonna go apeshit when he sees these!" you said.

"isn't that part of the plan?" draco looked at you confused.

"i suppose. come on now, there's gonna be hardly any food left for dinner," you said and the two of you made your way down to the great hall.

all eyes on you was an understatement. the hall quickly went quiet when you and draco walked in. the two of you still both slightly flushed in the face, the love bites very much visible on your neck.

theodore whistled, "didn't know you had that in you malfoy."

"y/n said the same exact thing," draco smirked and you lightly smacked his arm. "what? i'm not lying."

"shut your gob, i've already had enough of everyone staring," you said before digging into your food. you looked up across the large table, mattheo.

his eyes were on you. did he really just spend his whole time staring at you whenever possible? you put your head back down, awkwardly rubbing your neck.

"round 2 later?" draco smirked.

"don't even think about it, malfoy," a voice said and you looked up. mattheo?? again??

"you're not the boss of me," you snapped back. E

you could see the rage in mattheo's eyes. "we need to talk."

you looked at draco for approval, he nodded and you got up. you and mattheo walked out of the hall, he walked in front of you, well more so sped walked.

"slow down!" you tried to catch up to him.

"what are you doing to me?" he turned around and stopped in his tracks.

"i'm not doing anything," you said.

"yes you are! you're killing me y/n! do you know how it feels to see the girl i'm in love with walk in half an hour late to dinner, clearly having have just shagged the one and only malfoy?!" he took a step closer to you.

you gulped, unsure what to say. his closeness was also killing you. "i didn't think you'd care."

"why wouldn't i?" mattheos eyes softened as he spoke.

"why would you?! you were the one with cho's tongue half way down your throat just two days after we fucked! i know we're broken up but do you really think i don't still have feelings for you? i know you're smarter than that, riddle."

"i was only doing it for a reaction from you! clearly i got one but never did i think you would go and shag malfoy!"

"are you joking me? are we in primary or something? why would you even do that?!"

"i don't know! i thought it was a good idea and i wanted to move on from you - i couldn't just keep hooking up with you and pretend i'm not absolutely in love with you!"

"you're a fucking idiot, mattheo. i know you're a bit stupid but really!" you rubbed your temple.

"i'm sorry, okay? i just wanted you to show you cared but now that i look back i realise it was childish. i really do love you, y/n. i always will," mattheo's face was a mere few inches away from yours.

"i'll never understand you, you know that?" you let out a small giggle.

"oh i know. you're the only one who can put up with me anyways. i missed you, cho was a shit kissed," mattheo said.

"i don't really wanna hear about you kissing another girl right now," you said.

"well i also really don't want to see you with another guys hickies all over your necks but here we are," you rolled your eyes.

"i hate you," you held back a smile.

"i love you too. now let me show you how it truly feels to be fucked."

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

#mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #slytherin #fanfic #harry potter imagine #mattheo smut #mattheoriddlesmut

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miguel-ohara-eater · 7 months

Text

Dads best friend 💫

(I stopped doing the red: Miguel thing bc it takes a long time)

————————————————

(summary: your dads best friend came to the small celebration of you coming back home from college, and since your father got drunk he stayed home to help with him after he thought you went to bed, and found you in your room.)

CW: sex toys, edging, spit kink, size difference, age gap (23 and 47), dirty talk, choking, cum licking.

(this one doesn't have sex, but I'm gonna make a series like this after KinkTober)

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"Welcome home sweetheart!" your dad called from the kitchen as you walked in with your suitcase in your hands.

"hey." you said, then walked into the kitchen. across the counter was Miguel, wearing a tight black shirt and a pair of gray jeans, holding a glass of whiskey.

"hey." he said and you looked at your dad. "what's he doing here?" you asked and your father raised an eyebrow.

"well that's no way to greet your dad's best friend." he said jokingly, and your father nodded.

"what's gotten into you? be polite." he said sternly and you sighed.

last time you'd seen Miguel, he found your diary while him and your father were packing your things to go back to college for another semester.

he'd read it, curious of course. and he found out you liked him, and for a long time at that. you went into descriptions of things you wanted him to do to you, and things you wanted to do to him. how you think he'd feel, estimates of how big his dick was, etc,. he was flattered to say the least, and confronted you about it, but you got embarrassed and had yelled at him.

"Hi Miguel." you mumbled, then walked down the hall to unpack your things.

after you'd finished, you came back out and your father and Miguel were sitting at the table, drinking and laughing. (your father more than Miguel.)

your father looked at you, clearly already buzzed and he smiled.

"well don't be shy! come over here and celebrate!" he gestured you to come over, and you sighed and sat at the table.

Miguel and your father were sitting across from each other, so you had to sit in the middle.

your father poured you a glass of whiskey, and you took it but didn't drink it.

"so how was this semester?" Miguel asked and you side eyed him.

"fine." you said plainly, and your dad was too drunk to notice your attitude so he didn't say anything about it this time.

Miguel just simply nodded, and you tried your best not to look at him. but his pecs poking out of his shirt were basically calling to you.

your father started blabbing about his new job as you sipped on your whiskey.

Miguel was nodding and occasionally asking a question, just to make him feel like he was listening, but again he was too drunk to notice.

your shorts were stuck to your thigh, so you adjusted yourself and pulled them off. your knee bumped Miguels, and you didn't notice but he had to turn away for a second.

he had a painful boner already growing in his boxers just from looking at you.

after about an hour or so, your father was WASTED. head slumping every so often, and his ranting turned into incoherent mumbling.

you sighed and looked at your dad, tapping his shoulder.

"Dad it's late. we should go to bed." he waved you off, and Miguel stood up.

you caught a glance of his boner, your eyes widening before he turned and helped your dad up.

"c'mon. we're gonna go upstairs." he said and then walked your dad down the hall.

after seeing his boner, you couldn't get the thought out of your head, feeling wet slick form in between your legs and you quickly stood up, walking to your room.

"I'm going to bed!" you called out, shutting your bedroom door and jumping in bed.

you lay on your back, slipping your hand into your pants and your fingers run over your clothed and soaked clit.

you moan softly, thinking about masturbating while you remember the sight but you don't wanna risk being heard so you pull out your phone instead.

Miguel in the other room was laying down your father, debating on going into the bathroom and jerking off to the thought of you, but he decided to check on you first.

he left your fathers room, walking down the hall and knocking on your door.

you looked up from your phone, seeing his head poke through the door.

"hey." he said and you looked back down at your phone.

"...hi." you mumble

he looks at you, then steps fully inside, shutting the door and he stands in front of it.

you side eye him, noticing that he's as tall as the doorway and you imagine what'd it be like if he broke your back.

you shake the thought away, then put your phone down.

"what do you want?" he blinks a couple times, his hands folded in front of his crotch so you don't notice his boner again.

"I was just checking on you." he says and smiles a little.

you sit up, crossing your arms.

"I have a headache. no thanks." you say and he looks around

"does your dad have any Tylenol around? I could bring you some." he offers and you didn't really have a headache, but you had to play the part anyways.

"I have some in my drawer." you point to your dresser, but you made the mistake of not specifying which one.

he opens the second drawer "this one?"

your eyes widen "no! that's not-"

he looks down in the drawer, seeing a pretty pink vibrating wand, and a printed out work picture of him next to it.

you sit there silently, watching him as he crouches down and picks up the wand and the picture.

"I-"

"I could've just given you a better picture y'know." he says and looks back at you with a small smirk.

he holds up the wand "you use this?" he asks

you hesitate, not knowing if you should come up with an excuse or something.

so you turn away.

"I'll take it as a yes." he says, setting down the picture and bringing the wand up to his nose.

you hide underneath your blankets, hoping this is all a dream until he pulls it away from your face, his large calloused hand gently touching your jaw.

he was so much bigger than you, and he was hunched over just to see you.

he held up the wand, setting it on your stomach.

"I could do better." he leans down and whispers in your ear, gently kissing it.

shivers go down your spine. you want it, but you don't know how to ask.

your brain musters up a weak "please?"

he grins, his large hands sitting you up and he steps back.

he takes the wand, flipping the switch on.

his other hand runs against his belt, basically teasing it. he moves the wand in between your legs, rubbing it against your thigh.

"spread your legs." he says, and you immediately sit up a little more, leaning against the wall and you spread your legs like he asked.

he pressed the tip of the wand against where your clit would be, your panties and shorts barely softening the strong vibrations.

your hips squirm a bit, a squeak leaving your mouth and rubs it against your crotch, sending your head jerking back against the wall and your knuckles turning white from gripping the sheets.

"my pretty girl..." he cooed, his hand coming off of his belt and rubbing circles on your thigh.

you whimpered, his thumb flicking the '+' button on the wand, making the vibrations harder.

"so dirty. coming undone for a man twice your age hm?" he grinned, a small moan leaving your mouth and your hips twitched.

"I'm gonna make you scream my name later. just like you had in those diaries."

"k-keep going..." you whine, a knot twisting in your stomach as he kept rubbing the wand against your clothed crotch.

"close?" he asked, pressing down a little harder which make your hips buck.

you nodded quickly, feeling the knot loosen.

and then, he pulled the wand away from you, making your eyes tear up.

"not yet princess." he cooed, turning the wand off and revealing the slick that seeped through your pants.

he set the wand aside, pulling off his belt with one hand and tossing it onto the floor.

you looked up at him, watching him unbutton and unzip his pants. he let them fall to the floor, kicking them off.

you looked down at the bulge, visible veins on it popping through and stretching the fabric.

his cock was that big.

your jaw dropped, wide and your mouth pooled with saliva at the thought of that in your mouth.

he grinned "that's as far as you'll need your mouth open chica."

you looked up at him, sliding off of the bed and you got on your knees in front of him, your back on the side of your bed.

"eager huh?" he cooed and you nodded

"can I?" you looked up at him and he already imagined your face covered in his cum, mascara dripping down your cheeks.

he held your chin, his thumb rubbing against your bottom lip.

"open." he ordered, and you opened your mouth widely.

he leaned down, spitting into your mouth and he shut your jaw.

your eyes widened with shock, swallowing it. you were surprised it happened, but you liked it.

"lemme see?" you opened your mouth for him, sticking out your tongue.

he nodded and pressed his thumb against your tongue.

"good girl. now you be quiet okay? don't want your dad hearing us."

you nodded, and he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and you closed your mouth.

you looked down at his bulge right in front of your face. he was so hard you didn't know how he was resisting right now.

"can I?" you ask again, looking up at him and he nods.

"go ahead."

you slowly lean forward a bit, pulling the waistband down and his boxers to his knees.

the tip of his cock hits your nose, and you lean backwards, your hands on his thighs as you look at his size, wondering how it'll even fit in your mouth.

he grinned, his ego clearly boosted.

"well go on. don't just gawk at it."

you snap out of it, nodding and you wrapped your hand around the base, your thumb rubbing against him.

he lets out a low groan, reaching down and pushing your head closer.

you follow his lead, opening your mouth and making sure he won't touch your teeth.

you barely get him halfway before he hits the back of your throat, making you gag.

he grins and gently pushes your head on the bed behind you.

"just sit there and look pretty okay?" he says and you nod.

you keep your hand wrapped around him, your tongue flat against his cock.

he starts to move his hips, groaning a bit and everytime he hits the back of your throat he pulls back.

his thrusts become faster, his hands on both sides of your head as he uses your face as a Fleshlight.

tears stream down your face, your makeup getting messed up.

he reaches down, wrapping his hand around your throat and feeling his own cock throat-fuck you.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head, not able to breathe and he spat on your face.

"c'mon c'mon just a little longer princess okay?? I'm so close." he groans, throwing his head back and he lets go of your throat.

with a couple more thrusts, his warm seed fills your throat and he pulls out.

you lean over, coughing and accidentally spitting up his cum as you wipe your face off.

he looked down at you, his cock twitching.

"you okay bebe?" he asks, touching your hair.

you catch your breath, staying silent for a second and you look down at the cum you spit out.

"...aww." you mumble disappointed, and he gets an idea.

"lick it." he says and you look up at him.

"lick it?" you ask, and he nods.

"yes. lick it." he deadpans, and you look back down at the cum. you lean down, licking the salty seed off of the carpet.

"good job." he praises, stuffing his cock back into his pants.

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this is delicious.

I'm gonna make a series with dads bsf, so stay tuned!

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#spiderman 2099 #2099 #astv miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x you #kinktober #dark garfield #dads best friend #age g4p

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twice-inamillion · 5 months

Text

The Company

Taeyeon and IU’s Plan

Smut and Story Building (Sex, Deep Penetration, Defloration, Creampie, Fingering, Blowjob)

Chapter 3

4,315 Words

(IU finds out that Taeyeon has been looking through her phone that filled with her sexual experiences with her boss. Taeyeon is convinced by IU to get a taste and comes up with a plan. Taeyeon gets more than what she can handle. OC gets a little surprised but is more than happy to accept it.)

A few weeks pass, and every time Taeyeon stays at IU’s apartment, she notices hints of your sexual relationship with IU. Anything like cum covered panties, cummed covered skirts and marks on IU’s thighs and chest.

She can’t hold on any longer; she needs to confront her friend about the type of relationship the two of you have. Taeyeon tries to find the looks for the best moment to talk to her about this.

“I’m going to ask her today; I can’t wait anymore. It’s awkward every time I see the two of them together.”

Taeyeon arrives earlier than usual and prepares dinner for the both of them, “Some pasta would be nice and easy to do. She changes into some comfortable clothes and gathers all the necessary items to make the meal.

“Taeyeon, I’m home.”

“Welcome back. I made dinner for us.”

“Aww, that’s nice of you. Let me change.”

“Okay, I’ll set the dinner table.”

Taeyeon sets the dinner table and waits for IU to take a seat before serving her. “What’s the special occasion?”

“Nothing much. I just got tired of ordering takeout and wanted to make something homemade.”

“Haha, you should do this more often.”

“I’ll try, only when I’m done early. Anyways, how was your day? Don’t think we have talked comfortably in the past few days.”

“Hmm… nothing much. Just the same old thing. You know, helping with ranking the trainees, setting up meetings, and doing my duties as the CEO’s assistant.”

“What kind of duties do you have?”

“Just busy stuff like going over his daily and weekly schedule, setting up his meetings, sometimes bringing him his meals or some do simple tasks.”

“Seems like he has you overworking yourself.”

“Ah, no, that’s not true. He also has Irene as the secondary assistant. We share the tasks here and there. It's not that bad, actually, once you get used to it. But there are times when it does get busy, and I come home tired.”

“Is he nice to you?”

“He can be a bit tough, but he treats me nice. He asks how I’m doing, buys me nice things like jewelry, and gives me spending money.”

“Seems like the two of you have more than a boss-and-employee relationship.”

IU smiles and tries to play it off, but Taeyeon teases her, “Omg, are you and your boss something?” IU can’t help but grin, causing Taeyeon to push deeper, “I kind of figured the two of you were a thing. Is it actually a thing or work sex?”

“Haha, why do you want to know? Are you perhaps interested?”

“No! I just wanted to ask since you have been acting a bit differently.”

“Hmm.. okay. I’ll tell you, but don’t tell anyone else, okay?”

Taeyon is now completely invested in finding out their relationship and eagerly nods, “Yeah, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay, remember how I told you that my family has financial issues?”

“Yeah, of course. You said that your family was struggling really back, especially your mom.”

“I wanted to help her somehow, so I contacted some people and became his personal assistant. This meant I had to service him at the workplace and him “personally.” I knew it was bound to happen and did it for my mother’s sake. So I had my first time with him. I thought I would hate him, but he’s really caring. He and I aren’t dating; it’s just a work relationship. I’ve been with him for a bit over a year and learned that it’s better to take the initiative and serve him than for him to act on it. If he has to ask for it when he might fuck you based on his mood, and trust me, that might be a bit dangerous. So I learned to read his mood and service him.”

“Oh wow. I didn’t know it was that serious.”

“The pay is really good, and the benefits are much better. This is one of the reasons why I have this apartment, and my mom is living in a nice house.”

Taeyeon hesitants but asks, “By the way, how far have you gone? Like, what do you do?”

“Well… the first few times, it was just regular sex, then it was a handjob and blow job. As time kept going, we would do more stuff, like me giving him head in his office or having sex in there too.”

“Have you two done anal?”

“Ahh, I haven’t, but he’s done it with someone else.”

“Who?”

“Irene, his other assistant.”

“He fucks her too?”

“Yeah, and let me tell you this. Their relationship is much different than mine. She didn’t want to service him and learned the hard way. Anyways, are you interested?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t try to hide it, Taeyeon. I know you looked through my panties in my hamper and went through my phone.”

Taeyeon panics and lies, “No, I didn’t do that.”

“Don’t lie, that phone is something that he gave me. It screen records every time someone tries to log in. So I know that you’ve been looking at my videos of him fucking me.”

Taeyeon panics, and it shows. IU reads Taeyeon like a book and teases her by asking, “Are you interested in him?”

“Ahh, no! I’m just interested.”

“Lies, I’ve heard your moaning during the night. I know that you’re sexually interested and frustrated.”

“No, you’re wrong.”

“I mean, if you are, and I know you are. It will make my job easier. There are so many things I have to do, and if he’s busy with you, then that means I have to spend less time servicing him. What do you think?”

“Umm… I don’t know.”

“I’ll even help you. I’ll tell you the best time and even get him a bit tipsy for you, haha.”

“You’ll help me?”

“Yeah, you’re my friend. It’s not like I have anything to lose. Look, I’ll even show you some pictures from today,” as IU pulls out her phone and shows Taeyeon a video of you getting your cock sucked and you cumming in her mouth and face. IU notices Taeyeon slide her hand between her legs and rubs herself under the table, “Don’t tell me you don’t see yourself being in my place. Just imagine his hot cum on your face and going down your throat.”

“Hmm… you said you’ll help me, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of everything. You just got to follow my advice, and you’ll be good.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” causing IU to smile.

————

“Is that the last schedule for the day?”

“Yes, sir. You’re done for the day. Are you planning on dining out?”

“No, I just want to go home and rest. This was a busy and long weekend; I wanted to have a drink and relax. I’ll probably go out tomorrow.”

“Would you still like me to service you later tonight?”

“Hmm… actually, how about we share a drink?”

“It would be my pleasure, sir.”

You gather all your belongings and head to your apartment with IU. The two of you wait for the elevator and can’t help but notice the large height difference between the both of you, almost a foot apart. The elevator door slides open, and the two of you enter and scan your keycard to the top floor.

Arriving at the top floor, you walk down a long hallway towards the single, large door on the floor and insert your code to enter, “Finally, back home.” The two of you take your shoes off, leave your items on the table by the hallway, and sit on the large couch.

“Would you like me to serve you the usual?”

“Yes, please.”

IU heads towards the kitchen and to the alcohol cabinet and grabs a bottle and two glass cups. She pours the both of you a drink and walks back. “Here you, sir.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I like your initiative, Ji-eun. You’ve become a reliable assistant.”

“No, thank you, sir. For the opportunity to serve you and the help to my family.”

“Ahh, yes. How’s your mother doing?”

“She’s doing well, thanks to your generosity.”

“No need to thank me; it’s all due to your hard work.”

IU grabs the bottle once more and pours another drink as you enjoy the view from the top floor of the building. Watching the sunset is one of your favorite things after coming home from a long day.

“Would you like me to order you takeout, sir?”

“Sure, that’d be great.”

“What would you like?”

“You can choose.”

“Okay, I’ll place an order.”

You place your drink down and change into something more comfortable while waiting for the food to arrive. IU sets the table, cleans a bit of the living room, and places your items where they belong. “Would you like another drink?”

“Yeah, I could go for another one.”

She serves you another drink, and you take small sips as you continue to enjoy the view from your living room couch. You and IU have a small conversation about some of the schedule for next week and about the process of the trainees when IU’s phone pings. “Sorry, sir. It’s the delivery person; I’m going to go down to the lobby and meet them. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

You walk to the kitchen, open the fridge door, and grab a couple of beers for the meal. You wait for IU to arrive and check your messages. When you hear the door ring go off, signaling that IU was coming inside.

“Sir, I’m back.”

“Nice, I grabbed a couple of beers for the two of us.”

“Sir, I met Taeyeon in the lobby and asked her to join us. Would that be okay with you, sir?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“She’ll be coming up in a few. She just went to get changed.”

“Okay, let's get the table ready for three.”

After a few minutes, the doorbell rings, and IU opens the door for Taeyeon. “Hello, sir. Thank you for allowing me into your house.”

“It’s no problem; you’re welcome anytime; come take a seat.”

Taeyeon sits on the couch across from you," Would you like a beer?”

“Yes, I’ll take one.” he grabs a beer and opens it. She crosses her legs, and you catch a glimpse of her not wearing any panties. You try not to look at it, but you can’t help but admire her thighs.

“The pizza is ready.”

“Thanks; actually, do you think it would be better to eat here in the living room since it’s pizza?”

“We could do that,” says IU.

“I’ll help you, Ji-eun,” standing up and helping bring the plates to the living room table.

With everyone sitting down, you all grab a slice of pizza and a beer and start to eat. You ask Taeyeon about her week and if she’s comfortable as the vocal coach.

“I like it here; the place is beautiful, the staff is nice, and the trainees are very hardworking.”

“That’s good to hear. Better than SM, huh.”

“Haha, yeah, it is,” she laughs.

IU mentions that she’s been hearing positive feedback from the trainees ever since she started and congratulated her on a good job. Taeyeon smiles and puts her feet on the couch, giving you a better view of her private area.

You try not to look, but you can’t help your curiosity and eye her every time she moves her legs. IU notices this and asks, " Taeyeon, would you mind passing me a napkin?”

“Sure,” and she reaches for the napkin, allowing you to get a glimpse of her cleavage under the oversized shirt. IU looks at you and smiles, knowing that the plan is working.

“Like what you, sir?”

You turn around to IU, “What do you mean?”

“I asked if you liked what you saw.”

You see IU’s smile and turn to Taeyeon and see her smile. “What’s going on?”

IU says, “What do you think, sir? She wants you.”

“Is that true?”

“What do you think? I wouldn’t give a show to just anyone,” says Taeyeon.

“Hmm… So the both of you planned this.”

“You catch on quick, sir.”

“Okay, I’ll play your game. Taeyeon, you must be aware of the type of relationship I have with Ji-eun, right?”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Calling her bluff, you stand up, walk towards her, and extend your hand. “Alight, since you want to play, we can go right now.”

“R…right now?” looking at IU, who only smiles.

Knowing what will happen, she takes your hand and follows your lead to one of the bedrooms. The both of you hear a small chuckle from IU, and her saying, “Have fun,” before you close the door.

“You want to play? Let's see if you’re game,” and sit on the one-seater coach in the room.

Taeyeon stands there, confused about what you mean. “Strip.”

Taeyeon is caught off guard by your command and hesitates. You repeat it once more, “Strip.” Understanding you’re serious; she stands before you crosses her arms, and removes her oversized shirt and then her loose, small shorts.

In front of you is a completely nude Taeyeon. She has small breasts and a clean, shaven cunt. Without saying a word, you scan her body, from her feet to her head. She turns around and gives you a view of her behind, “Amazing. I can’t believe a member from Girls Generation is standing in front of me, nude.”

You signal her to approach you and say, “Come over here.” You grab both her hands and her right in front of you. You lick your index and middle finger and rub her lower lips. She moans at the sudden touch of your warm fingers against her cold skin. Using your two fingers, you trace and swirl the outside of her lips until you feel her moist.

You remove your fingers, pull her towards you, and pick her up. She suddenly yelps from being picked up and notices you walking towards the bed. You toss her onto the bed and watch her reaction as you spread her legs wide open, giving you an embarrassed look. She tries to cover her pussy, to which you tease her and say, “I guess you’re all talk and no game,” giving her a smirk. She gets offended and removes her hands out of pride, responding, “I’m not all talk; I can back it up, too.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“I’ll give you one last chance to back out.”

“Don’t need it, I can play along.”

“Alright. Let’s play.”

You remove your shirt and shorts and toss it to the couch. Taeyeon’s heart begins to race as she’s focused on your boxers and sees you pull them down, revealing your semi-hard cock. You pull her towards you and her folds once you say, “You have a really nice pussy right here.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. I can’t wait to fuck you,” grabbing your cock and pressing it against her lower lips. She pushes your cock away and says, “Wait, you’re not going to wear a condom?”

You stop and are surprised by the most ridiculous question and reply, “What do you mean a condom? I only fuck, raw. Why? You don’t want to?”

No, I was just wondering. I heard that it’s important to wear a condom.”

“I check myself regularly, so I’m good. Are you?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Okay, then we’re all good to continue, right?”

“Yeah,” turning her head around and thinking of all the possibilities of fucking without a condom.

You grab your cock with your right hand and give it a few pumps and press it against her lower lips. You look at Taeyeon and see her face of anticipation, waiting for your next move. With your hardened cock against her entrance, you smack it against her folds right before inserting yourself inside of her.

Taeyeon groans from the pain of your cock making its way through her tight walls. “Fuck… you’re so tight!” as you shove more of your cock inside her. Due to the pain, Taeyeon grabs onto the bedsheets with all her might.

Suddenly, Taeyeon screams when you shove your whole length inside of her in one go. “Wait…Wait… pull out, pull out, you’re breaking me!”

Seeing her in pain, you pull out your cock, and caress her cheek, “Are you okay?” Taeyeon replies, “You’re too big; I thought it was going to die. Give me some time to get myself together.”

‘Wait… don’t tell me” as you look down and look at the tip of your cock covered in a thin layer of red.

She nods her head in tears and says, “Yeah, it’s my first time.” You’re surprised by her comment and would have never known that this would be her first time, but the idea of being her first man makes you hard again.

You grab a tissue, get yourself cleaned, and reassure Taeyeon that you’ll make it pleasurable. She nods and wipes the tears off her face before you move on to insert yourself once more.

With your cock at the entrance of her, slowly insert your length; Taeyeon groans from the slight pain in her walls and begins to stretch to their limits, “Ow… you’re still too big.” You get on the bed, get on top of her, and begin to kiss her neck and play with her breast as you move inside of her.

Taeyeon slowly forgets about the pain and focuses on the pleasure of your kissing and her tits, “Hmm, yeah… that feels good, don’t stop.” You move towards her breast and take her nipple into your mouth as you play with the other. She continues to moan and let free of her nipple and continue to thrust your cock.

Taeyeon wraps her arms around your neck now that she’s comfortable with your length. You increase the pace of your thrusting, causing her to moan and even laugh, “I can’t describe the feeling, but it feels so good!”

“Just wait, it's going to feel better,” as you place her into a mating press. With her legs pushed back, you do a strong thrust, each other’s pelvis smacking against each other. “How do you like that? Can you feel it deep inside you?”

“Ahh.. yeah, I can feel the difference. My womb is taking the shape of your cock!” Her hands move towards her breast, pinching and twisting her nipples as she feels her orgasm coming.

Seeing her pleasuring herself, you can’t help but tease her as you focus your focus on her clit. Taeyeon yelps, asking you to stop because she can feel an overwhelming feeling approaching.

Instead, you place it between your thumb and your index finger and give it a nice pinch. This causes Taeyeon to instantly cum, as you feel a rush of fluid covering your cock. You pull out and enjoy the scene of her orgasm as her body violently shakes. You watch as she rides her orgasm and decide to tease her, so you insert your middle finger and begin to thrust inside her cunt. “Don’t… don’t do that, you’re going to make me come! Stop!” It didn’t take her long for her to reach her second orgasm. “Ahh, fuck! I’m cumming!” as a gush of fluid sprays and her body spasms.

“Wow, I didn’t have to do much. Seems like you don’t relieve yourself often, but that won’t be a problem now that I’m here. You’re going to be a good fucking with me, but now that you had your fun, it’s my turn.”

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“I need to get my fill too, you know.”

“Please… wait,” not letting her finish her sentence as you insert your cock inside. She throws her head back and screams, “Oh fuck! You’re going to mess me up inside!” Her walls tighten around your cock, not used to having your massive length inside of it.

“Your walls want to squeeze my cock, fuck you feel so tight.” You start to pump your cock inside her slippery walls, feeling all the grooves and crevices of her meaty flesh.

You listen to the beautiful sound of Taeyeon’s moaning as you thrust inside of her for what feels like ten minutes. Taeyeon is a complete mess; her hair is ruined, and her body is all sweaty. The tipsy sensation has disappeared, and let her know that you’re about to reach your peak, “Fuck, I’m about to cum.”

“Wait… what did you say?”

“I said I’m about to cum. Where do you want it?”

Puzzled, she tries to come up with an answer, and it is taking longer than what you’re used to. Not wanting to hold it in any longer, you decide where you want to bust your load. Feeling the weird feeling of your cock throbbing your cock she says, “Outside, do it outside,” but it's too late.

The amount of time she wastes on deciding, you end up making the choice for her. You pull your cock out and do one last thrust when you hear her say she wants you to cum outside. Instead, all she hears is, “Fuck! I’m cumming!” Her eyes widen when she hears your comment, and she is bombarded with a large wave of cum flooding her womb.

She cries, “So hot! Pull out!” That only makes you want to shove your cock in deep and paint her womb white.

After finishing your orgasm, you notice Taeyeon looking at her bulging belly, filled with your load. You pull out and watch as she presses her fingers on her stomach, causing a large amount of cum to ooze out. “I told you to do it outside.”

“You took too long, so I made a choice. Plus, I normally cum inside of my girls, so there shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

“But I’m not one of your girls. I’m not IU or Irene.”

“Yeah, you’re right. You are not them, but since you took my hand, you’re mine now.”

“You don’t own me.”

“Haha, says the person with the cum of their boss inside of her.”

She sees your smirk and realizes that you’re right; she does have her belly full of your cum right now. “Don’t smirk.”

“You know, I’m right. How about another round?”

“Another round?”

“Yeah, I mean, if you’re up for it.”

Taeyeon’s pride doesn’t let her back down; she wants to wipe that grin off your face, even if it means going another round. She looks down at you and notices your hardened cock. “Alright, I can do another round.”

“Haha, alright. Let's change the scenery,” as you extend your hand. She takes your hand, and you walk her to the balcony. She looked down and saw the campus and trainees walking in groups back to their dorms after a long Friday night.

You kiss her nape, which causes her to shiver, and her nipples harden. “Put your hands against the railing.”

“Why?”

“Don’t worry. Just let me lead, and enjoy.”

“Okay.”

You raise her right leg up in the air, and with your left hand, you position your cock to her entrance. “What are you do… ahhh” as she feels your cock penetrating her cunt once more. The both of you spend the whole night fucking throughout the penthouse, the balcony, living room, kitchen, and shower. Every time you move locations, you make sure to make the two of you get to orgasm.

————-

Taeyeon wakes up on the bed, looks around, and notices you are gone. She gets up and looks at the many stains throughout the bed, which makes her remember the night she had. She takes a cold shower to wash the stains of fluid on her body, “Ugh… I feel so full.” She presses her stomach and notices a white cream liquid oozing out of her. Pressing her belly harder, a gush of cum squirts out, covering the shower floor cum, “Fuck…that’s too much.”

After her shower, she changed into her clothes and walked out to see you in the living room, reading a newspaper. She walks towards you, “Good morning,” to which you reply, Good Morning, Taeyeon.”

As she walks towards the kitchen, she turns around to ask if she could grab something to eat when she sees IU on her knees. “Ji-eun! What are you doing?”

IU turns around with a smile on her face and replies, “Good Morning, Unnie. I made breakfast, by the way.”

“Why are you going down on him?”

“Oh, I’m having breakfast too. Want some?” as she holds your cock in her hand.

“No!”

“Come on, it's good.”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

She looks at her friend’s satisfied face and remembers the videos she has masturbated to before. She looks at you and back at her, giving her a reply.

You woke up this Saturday morning full of energy. After going on a run early in the morning, you return and enjoy the breakfast your assistant, IU, made for you. You give her a treat as a reward for a job well done.

You turn, you’re done reading your newspaper, set it on the table, and enjoy the sight in front of you. “It’s nice to see two friends sharing a meal together,” you say with a slight grin.

737 notes · View notes

smileysuh · 1 year

Text

Energizer Bunny

🌙 staring. Haechan x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “With me here, you’re in no danger at all,” the white wolf hybrid says. “However- I think everyone else might be in danger of becoming quite enamored with you.” You’ve heard about predator hybrids having prey fetishes- with bunnies being an often glorified playmate option- but you’ve never truly witnessed it firsthand, not like you have tonight.

cw/tw. unprotected sex, pussy eating, fingering, bunny hybrid fetishes, praise, big dick hyuck, semi-inappropriate boss x subordinate relationship, hand holding sex, slight choking, slight overstim, dumbification, slight dacryphilia, begging, multiple orgasms, slight orgasm control, dirty talk, etc...

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 19.1k

🍭 aus. hybrid au, brother!mark, bunny!reader, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. there's just something about Hyuck

1: Friday

“I just don’t see why you won’t let me come visit you while you’re at work,” you sigh, looking your brother up and down while you cross your arms over your chest. “And before you even open your mouth to tell me that ‘it’s not a fun club’ or ‘it’s not always safe,’ I’ll have you know that it’s a top rated hybrid friendly bar, and also that it will be safer for me and my friends because you work there-”

“I just really don’t think it’s a good idea,” Mark groans, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Well, too bad,” you say defiantly. “Your friends keep saying I should stop by, and that wolf dude you’ve been bringing over invited me too-”

“Yuta did?” Now you’ve grabbed Mark’s attention, and he stops in his tracks on the way to the door. He gets finicky about being to work on time, but it seems that the mention of his new ‘friend’ is enough to trump his bunny hybrid time anxieties.

“Uh huh,” you confirm. “You went down to the lobby to get our dinner delivery and he mentioned that it’s odd he’s never seen me around before- something about me already knowing Jeno and Jaemin, and the club always being in need of good little bunny hybrids, with our sensitive noses.”

“Well that’s the last time I invite Yuta over-” Mark groans for the umpteenth time. “Look, I just really don’t think it’s a good place for you.”

“Mark, you know how hard it can be for hybrids like us to get good jobs in this town.”

“Who said my job is a good job?”

“The paycheck you get every month, and the tips, that’s who.” You take a deep breath. “Look- money is still kind of tight- can you imagine how good it would be if we could both be working? I hate to say it Mark, but I’m pretty sure I’d get more tips than you could working at a bar.”

“I’m just-” Mark shakes his head, “you’d get eaten alive in there.”

“Not with you hovering around- and Jeno’s a doberman, he could protect me!” Your brother doesn’t look convinced so you go for a hybrid even higher on the food chain than the puppy you often find yourself enthralled with; “Yuta seems like a good guy.”

“Wolves eat bunnies in the wild,” Mark reminds you, “don’t forget about that part.”

From the vibes Yuta’s given off the two or so times you’ve met him, you can confirm that the wolf definitely wants a piece of your bunny hybrid brother- “Let me come by tonight,” you say again, “just to see what it’s like.”

“Something tells me you’re going to do what you want even if I say no,” Mark sighs, picking up his keys and testing them in the palm of his hand. “If you and your friends really want to see the club tonight- just invite Jeno too, he’s not on shift, and I’d feel better knowing he’s there with you.”

“Mark, it’s just a club, a club you work at- you shouldn’t be so worried about my safety.”

“And you shouldn’t be so sure it’s a safe place for a bunny like you.”

2: Friday con't

Although Jeno’s spent a few nights out with you and your friends, it’s always been with Mark and Jaemin hanging around too. Walking into his work place with a bengal cat, bunny and a fellow doberman hybrid - all three of whom are gorgeous girls - makes Jeno feel like he’s on top of the world, and he has to make a conscious effort to stop his tail from wagging with pride.

“This place is so cool!” you beam, grabbing onto Jeno’s arm as he leads you through the large open space bar. He likes the way you tuck into his arm, looking around with eyes full of bunny wonder - it had taken both Mark and Jaemin a few shifts to get used to all the lights, sounds and smells.

The happy doberman sometimes considers what it would be like to be a prey hybrid - someone at the bottom of the food chain - however, he doesn’t envy you.

On your left Yeji is grinning, already throwing flirty glances at a few men by the bar, and on Jeno’s right, Ryujin is walking with her hands in her pockets, a vision of doberman watchdog calmness.

“I thought you said this was a hybrid bar,” Yeji comments, her cat ears flickering with interest, “I’m not seeing many hybrids.”

Before Jeno can respond, you’re nodding. “I’d say less than half of the people here are like us.”

He marvels at how quickly a prey hybrid like you can read a room for danger, and he’s shocked that you don’t know more about the way the club is run. “Hasn’t Mark told you guys anything about this place?”

“What do you mean?” Ryujin asks, her gaze darting to him.

“This is just the front room, humans and hybrids allowed. The real fun is in the back room, hybrids only.”

“Hybrids only?” Your eyes have widened. “Is that allowed?”

Jeno had asked the same question when he’d been hired, and his raven manager, a regal, intelligent man named Doyoung, had explained that with all the discrimination and segregation the hybrids had faced in the past- well, they all deserved a safe space too. He’d also compared it to a gay bar, but Jeno’s not about to confuse you by making the connection himself.

“It’s legal,” he assures you. “Look, there’s Mark!”

The doberman hybrid is always happy to see his bunny best friend, and Jeno almost forgets himself and lets go of you in favour of lumbering towards your brother- but your grip on his arm makes him be patient. When Mark catches his eye, Jeno can feel his tail wagging again, and an enthusiasm bubbles in his chest.

“You guys came.” Mark, on the other hand, doesn’t sound too enthusiastic, but he makes a visible effort to force a smile.

“Of course we came!” Yeji beams, pulling Mark into a hug.

The bunny stiffens in the cat’s grasp, and Jeno can’t help but grin. Mark used to have a pretty big crush on Yeji, and Jeno will be sure to put in a good word for him tonight.

“Well this is surprising.” Jaehyun, the black lab hybrid on Mark’s right, is looking the small group up and down. Jeno can feel himself deflate a little under his hyung’s gaze.

“They’re with me,” Mark says quickly, letting out a small cough. “Uh, this is my sister, and her two friends.”

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” Jaehyun’s eyes linger on you for a few moments.

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that,” Mark sighs. “You guys can all go in, but uh-” he pulls Jeno to his side, lowering his voice, “there’s a lot of Level Fours inside tonight, so try to be quick? I don’t want anyone to get… overwhelmed.”

By anyone, Mark clearly means you, and it warms Jeno’s heart to see his friend be so protective of his sister. “You got it Mark,” he nods, bringing two fingers up to his forehead in a mock salute. “I’ll keep my eye on all three of our girls.”

Yeji practically purrs at Jeno’s words, grabbing onto his arm as Jaehyun opens the door to let them into the back room of the club.

The doberman definitely feels like a big dicked dude now, walking into the hybrid only section of the bar with two pretty girls on his arms… and Ryujin, of course.

“What did Mark mean when he said there’s a lot of Level Fours here tonight?” you ask, and it takes a moment for Jeno to properly register your question.

“Oh uh- it’s a ranking system we have here.” He clears his throat. “So- prey hybrids like you and Mark are Level Ones, and the ranking goes up to Level Five. Basically, Mark was just letting me know we have a lot of Level Four big predator hybrids here tonight- wolves, bears, tigers- that sort of thing.”

You open your mouth as if to ask more questions, but before any words can come out, Jeno’s attention is captured by one of his hot coworkers stationed at the bar.

“Let’s go get drinks,” he announces. “First round’s on me!”

3: Friday con't

“I didn’t know Mark had a sister.”

“What?” Johnny looks up from his drink, leaning closer to Haechan to follow his gaze. “Who?”

“That girl with puppy boy Jeno.” Haechan nods towards you.

“How do you know she’s Mark’s sister?” Johnny asks, taking a sip of his beer.

Haechan cocks his head ever so slightly, somewhat annoyed that even after all this time, he has to explain himself to a bear hybrid below his rank. “I can smell the family resemblance.”

“You can smell the family resemblance,” Johnny repeats with a chuckle. “Your nose never ceases to amaze me. It’s as good as any Level One hybrid’s.”

“Are we talking about Mark’s sister?” The wolf on Haechan’s other side leans in now too, and Haechan smirks at the way his most hardworking bunny employee has Yuta wrapped around his finger.

However, there’s a familiarity in Yuta’s words that doesn’t exactly sit right with Haechan. “You know her?”

“Met her a few times now- and you’re right, there’s something about the Lee bunnies,” Yuta’s gaze darkens, “they always smell particularly tasty.”

“Why have you never mentioned her before?” Haechan can feel himself getting aggravated, he doesn’t like it when his friends keep things from him, especially not pretty little things like you. “And why isn’t she working here yet?”

“Slow down-” Yuta gives his head a small shake, and the slight pink tint to his skin tells Haechan he’s probably already had too many drinks. “I’m the one who told her to come visit- Mark has this thing about your club being dangerous-”

“My club?” Haechan scoffs. “Dangerous?”

“You know how easy it is to scare a bunny,” Yuta’s grin widens wolfishly.

Haechan takes a moment to consider his options. “How about you go buy a round for Mark’s sister and her friends. On the house. As a welcome to our dangerous club.”

“Why can’t you do it yourself?” Yuta asks, but he’s already pulling himself to his feet to follow through.

“Like you said,” Haechan sighs, “bunnies scare easy. We all remember how Mark reacted when I met him for the first time.” All three upper level hybrids let out laughter, but Haechan’s subsides quickly. “I’m not looking to scare her off. I’ll stay here, in VIP, for now- I’m sure I’ll get to meet her sometime soon. Something tells me this little bunny will be back.”

4: Friday con't

You smell the wolf before he’s even fully approached you, but you give him the grace of allowing him to sneak up on your rear as you stand by the bar.

“Funny seeing you again,” Yuta’s voice is as smooth as ever.

You turn to look at him, taking in his white hair and pretty wolf ears. He’s dressed in a simple dress shirt with black pants, and the outfit compliments his pretty ashy colouring. Sharp canines glint at you when he smiles.

“You invited me to come see the club,” you remind him. “How could I pass this up?”

Instead of responding, Yuta catches the eye of the bartender. “Another round for me and my friends,” he announces, “and one for Jeno too.”

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s on the house,” he assures you with a dismissive wave of his hand. Yuta’s gaze shifts past you to where Jeno and Ryujin are in a heated debate over some doberman hybrid thing- “I see you have two watchdogs tonight, and a kitty running around- they seem to like the place, but how do you feel being here?”

“Is my anxiety that obvious?” you laugh, running a hand over the back of your neck in an effort to calm yourself. You’ve been doing your best- but the bright lights, loud sounds and the smells of the club are a lot to get used to.

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, little bunny,” Yuta grins. “The pretty scent of bunny fear only adds to your allure… which is why most bunnies feel more comfortable in the general section, with humans- pretty prey hybrids like you are less inclined to come back here, where it’s a little more… dangerous.”

You blink up at Yuta. “Am I really in that much danger?”

“With me here, you’re in no danger at all,” the white wolf hybrid says, grabbing at the drink that’s placed by his hand. Then he leans in, breath teasing by your throat, “however- I think everyone else might be in danger of becoming quite enamoured with you.”

When he pulls away, his gaze lingers on your face, and you can feel your heart picking up speed in your chest.

You’ve heard about predator hybrids having prey fetishes- with bunnies being an often glorified play mate option- but you’ve never truly witnessed it first hand, not like you have tonight.

You can feel your throat getting dry, and the power behind Yuta’s gaze makes you fold, eyes flickering down to your own drink. You’re glad you’ve only been ordering small cocktails, as they’re much easier to drink than the beer in Yuta’s hand.

“Thank you very much for the mojito,” you say. “I hate to disappoint you, but I was actually just planning on finding my friend Yeji and getting out of here-”

Like the perfect bengal kitty she is, Yeji appears a moment after you say her name, a pretty grin on her face. “You called?”

She’s looking Yuta up and down, and he returns her flirty gaze with one of his own.

“Yeji, this is Yuta, he bought us a round,” you hand her the gin and tonic the bartender had left by your hand, “he’s one of Mark’s friends-”

“One of his bosses, actually.”

This is news to you, and you falter a little, but Yeji takes the cup from your hand, teasing the straw past her lips. “Mark never mentioned he had a cute wolf hybrid boss,” she flirts.

“He never mentioned he had a cute kitten for a friend either,” Yuta returns Yeji’s smile, and you catch another glimpse of sharp teeth.

Before they can continue flirting, Jeno and Ryujin join the conversation, their own drinks in hand. “The bartender said you got us a round?” Ryujin asks in confusion.

“Oh shit-” Jeno runs a hand through his hair, cheeks flaring an even brighter shade of pink than they already were, “Mister Nakamoto-”

“Mister Lee.” The wolf in front of you nods to the two new doberman hybrids.

“You really didn’t have to get us drinks-” Jeno says sheepishly.

“Like I told our pretty bunny friend here,” Yuta’s smile returns to you, “it’s on the house.”

There’s a beat of silence where all four of you ‘lower level hybrids’ wait for the wolf to continue, then he lets out a sigh.

“Y/N was just saying you should be leaving soon. I won’t keep you. Enjoy your drinks, and I hope to see you three lovely ladies again sometime.”

“You bet,” Yeji says dreamily.

With one final nod, Yuta leaves you be, and you watch him retreat towards the raised VIP section.

“Oh my god-” Jeno lets out a deep breath, huddling you all in closer, “that was my boss-”

“Yeah, Mister Nakamoto,” Ryujin teases, elbowing Jeno in the side gently.

“Stop it!” Jeno bats her arm away. “That was so embarrassing- do you think it was obvious I’m drunk?”

“No one could tell,” Yeji plays it cool, but when she reaches out and pinches Jeno’s chin, her grin widens mischievously, “you’re always this lovely pink colour.”

“Fuck-” Jeno groans. “I need to get out of here-”

You watch him finish his beer in three large gulps, and then you’re downing your own cocktail in record time.

The alcohol helps things become fuzzier. You can almost forget that you’re in a room filled with Level Four hybrids - as Mark would say - but when you look out at the crowd, you’re met with all sorts of dangerous eyes.

A tiger hybrid stares you down and you tear your gaze away, looking after Yuta-

Your heart lurches in your chest as you lock eyes with a man in VIP. You’re at a distance, but you could swear his irises are red-

“Come on, y/n,” Yeji tugs on your hand, “let’s go.”

5: Saturday

Ushering a bratty wolf out of his apartment at 8 am isn’t something Mark wants to get used to any time soon, but it’s an obstacle he’s being more and more acclimated to as he pushes and shoves Yuta towards the door.

“No breakfast?” the white wolf questions- he always looks for any reason to stay.

“No breakfast,” Mark confirms. “You have to get out before my sister wakes up.”

Yuta flashes a toothy grin. “Hate to break it to you Mark, but I'm pretty sure that sharp-eared bunny hybrid sister of yours heard us last night.”

“We were quiet-” Mark tries to insist with a shake of his head, but the wolf’s smile only widens.

“Sure you were, bunny boy.”

“I was!”

“What if you come out with me and we get breakfast somewhere else?” Yuta suggests,

“Jeez-” Mark lets out a deep sigh, opening the door to his apartment, “you act as if you’re not going to see me at work in twelve hours- just go!”

With one last eye roll, Yuta steps over the threshold and into the hallway beyond. “Don’t be late, bunny boy.”

“I won’t be-”

“Mark?” Your voice makes the bunny jump- usually he’s pretty good at tracking you with his ears, but he’d been so focused on getting Yuta out of the apartment that you’ve been able to sneak up on him.

He closes the door in his boss's face, and the small chuckle that sounds from the hallway beyond is enough for Mark to know the wolf won’t hold it against him.

“Y/N!” Mark swallows thickly, one hand moving to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. “You’re awake early!”

“I uh… couldn’t sleep.”

The way you’re looking at him tells Mark that you definitely heard him and Yuta last night, and the thought makes his skin flush with heat. He goes for a topic change, grasping at straws until he’s able to state; “Glad Jeno got you back home last night in one piece.”

Now it’s your turn to sigh. “Your club didn’t give that many bad vibes- of course I got home alright.”

“Speaking of the club-” Mark swallows thickly. “Listen, I don’t know how I feel about this yet, but it would be against my morals not to mention it- Yuta told me last night that apparently you caught the eye of one of my managers? They said they’d give me a raise or something if I ‘recruited’ you-”

“Oooh- which manager?”

Mark can see interest in your eyes, and it makes his skin crawl. “You’re not going to fuck one of my managers,” he warns you.

“You’re one to talk Mark Lee,” you look him up and down. “Hypocrite.”

He should never have let Yuta come home with him last night-

“I want to go see your workplace again,” you insist. “To see if I like it. It would be good to have two incomes- besides, all your friends work there- and I’d be getting to use my bunny smelling senses-”

What you’re saying is - by all accounts - true. It would be a good job, for any bunny- but unfortunately you’re not just any bunny, you’re his sister. Mark worries about which manager you caught the attention of- there are a few Level Fours he could handle, but if either of the Level Five managers get their hands on you-

Mark doesn’t even want to think about it.

“I guess you can go see what it’s like,” Mark sighs. “Yuta told me to give you his number- something about maybe popping by tonight when it’s busy and meet the managers and such-”

“Really?” your eyes widen with excitement. “You mean you’re not going to fight me on this anymore?”

“I’m not,” Mark concedes… he’s just hoping you’ll spend one night working behind the scenes and decide to hate the club.

6: Saturday con't

You’re not sure what you’re expecting when you walk into Mark’s bar for the second time in your life, but it’s definitely not a small, timid deer hybrid by the name of Moon Taeil. From the look of his small, spiny, horn-like antlers, you think he might be a pudu, and you wonder how he ever obtained a high ranking position at a club like this one.

“I’m the main manager of the front area of the club,” Taeil explains, as he walks you through the room of both humans and hybrids. “The majority of our servers in this section are Level Twos. Mark must have walked you through the levels?”

“Refresh me?” you suggest, sending a pleading smile Taeil’s way.

The elder man sighs. “Level Ones are small prey animals,” he tells you, “Hamsters, bunnies, rats, mice, that sort of thing. Level Twos are larger prey animals like myself, so deer, zebras, we’ve even got a lovely cow hybrid bartender. We also have a few humans we employ to keep the ‘diversity’ structure. Level Ones like you generally work the door to the back section, with a Level Three hybrid bouncer.”

He takes a deep breath, and his large deer ears flick to follow other sounds in the bar. You can tell that Taeil doesn’t like going through these details, as he runs through them quickly.

“Level Three’s are smaller and ‘domesticated’ predator types, so dogs, cats- we’ve mostly got dogs on the doors. You already know Jeno, our doberman. We also have a golden retriever, and a lab-”

“Not to mention our resident Raven,” a regal man appears on your left, and one whiff of him tells you he’s the bird in question. Hybrids that fly all share a uniquely airy scent, or at least, the ones you know do.

“This is Doyoung- he’ll be your manager while you’re here.” Taeil seems more than happy to pass you off, not that you mind.

“If you end up liking the place,” Doyoung sighs. “And if we like you. We always have openings for Level Ones in door inspection like your brother, but I’m guessing you’ll fit in as more of a bottle girl.”

You’ve heard of bottle girls; the pretty females who provide top of the line waitressing service to VIP’s and such. You’ve also heard that they’re the ones who make big money on tips.

“Have you ever had any experience in a bar?” Doyoung is quick to get to business, and Taeil scurries away.

“I worked in a restaurant once,” you tell him, thinking back to the humans who had been nice enough to give you a shot.

“Bottle service is easy,” the raven assures you. “The real test you have to pass is for manning the door.”

“A test?” you ask, following Doyoung through to the back room.

The bar isn’t open yet, and it’s different to see the large space without fun, flashy lighting, the dancefloor empty of guests.

“Sounds like Taeil was walking you through the levels, right?” Your new manager walks you through to a hallway that leads to the staff restricted zone. “Level Fours are big predator animals, think lions, tigers, bears, wolves-”

“And Level Fives?”

Doyoung gives you a look. “We don’t get many Level Fives in here- and trust me, when we have one, you’ll know.”

It’s the only level that hasn’t come with a hybrid list, and you’re not quite sure what to make of it.

“How will I know-” you ask, as you follow Doyoung into a staff room where a white wolf is waiting for you.

“Trust us, Lee,” Yuta grins, “with a nose like your brother’s, you’ll know.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes at the flirty tone in his coworker’s voice, and he’s quick to move on. “If you could take a seat, we’ll begin the nose test.”

“So soon?” You feel like you have whiplash. Yuta pulls out a chair at the small table by the staff lockers and you’re quick to sit down, looking at both men with confusion.

“Trust me, you’ll pass,” Yuta assures you again, resting one hand on your shoulder while flashing you a charming smile.

“Did you bring your blindfold?” Doyoung isn’t talking to you, but your heartrate picks up in your chest.

“You know I always have one on me,” the wolf responds, reaching into his pocket.

“Blindfold?” you squeak.

“It’s nothing weird,” Doyoung is quick to assure you. “You’ll just put this on, and five people, one from each level, will come in, then you’ll have to identify their level by smell.”

You suppose it’s a fair trial- after all, with your eyes covered you won’t be able to identify anyone by their hybrid marks, so you accept the blindfold and put it on.

With your eyesight gone dark, you take a deep breath, trying to focus on the smell of the Level Three and Four that surround you.

“Are you ready for the first person?” the raven asks.

You nod.

In the periphery of your senses, you hear a door opening, and then a familiar smell washes over you. You’d only spent a short time with the timid deer manager, but Taeil’s scent is already committed to your memory. “Level Two,” you announce, adding “Mister Moon” for good measure.

Yuta lets out a small chuckle at your rear, and you hear Doyoung groan at his friend’s behaviour. “Very good,” he praises you.

The sound of a door opening and closing prepares you for the next smell, and even this one is somewhat familiar. It’s a very puppy specific smell- but you’re not quite sure if it’s one of your friends, so when you say “Level Three,” you simply leave it at, “dog hybrid,” instead of adding a name.

“You can’t take your blindfold off,” Yuta reminds you, “but this is Jungwoo, he’s our resident golden retriever.”

“So lovely to meet you!” comes an enthusiastic voice, and loud footfall tell you the large man is approaching you. He gently shakes your hand and you try not to jump at the sudden contact.

“Good to meet you too,” you smile.

“It’s always nice to have another Lee in the building,” the puppy continues. “We love Jeno, and then we got Mark- now we have you! Everyone loves a cute Lee!”

“Some more than others,” Doyoung mutters, and you can’t help but think it’s a jab at Yuta. It seems you’re not the only one who’s aware of your brother’s shenanigans with his so called ‘boss.’

“I’ll see you on shift, bunny,” Jungwoo says, and you can practically hear his grin.

“She’s not officially hired yet,” Doyoung is quick to remind everyone in the room.

“She’s a Lee- a legacy!” Jungwoo insists. “Like I said, see you on shift.”

You hear him leave the room, but his scent takes longer to drift from your senses.

The door opens again, and it’s the easiest smell to identify so far. A Level One prey is always a pleasant experience, and this one smells particularly earthy. “Level One,” you say with a smile.

“Three for three,” the raven counts. “Although, this one might also be a bit of a cheat- I think you’ve met our Hamster hybrid, Jisung?”

You’d nearly forgotten about the tall, quiet boy that Mark had introduced you to last month, but now that Doyoung mentions it, the meeting comes back to you. “We have met once,” you admit.

“Nice to see you again.” Jisung’s voice is as quiet as ever, and you wonder what an introvert like him is doing in a bar like this, but then again- what are any of your prey hybrid acquaintances doing here?

You listen to the hamster leave the room, and you’re left waiting long enough to start to question it. “Uh, is the test over?” you ask after five minutes of silence have gone by. You can feel your ears twitching, and your nose ruffles as you try to track any new scents.

“Two more,” Doyoung tells you. “These last two like to be late-”

“Or maybe we like to make an entrance,” a new voice and smell nearly overwhelm your senses.

While most hybrids have an earthy note to their scent, this man also brings in a touch of smokiness- for a moment, part of you wants to announce that he’s a Level Five, but you bite your tongue.

You’ve not smelt something like him in a long time, but when you search your brain for a memory, you realize what hybrid he reminds you of. “Level Four?” you ask, feeling unsure for the first time, “a bear?”

“Wow, it’s always the bunnies with good noses, huh?” The new voice lets out a chuckle, and you think you must have clocked him spot on.

“Told you she’d be good,” Yuta says pridefully.

“Does this mean I’ve passed?” You’re eager to take the blindfold off- being in a room with a raven, a wolf, and a bear - without your eyes to protect you - well, it’s making your stomach fill with butterflies.

“There’s one last person you have to meet,” Doyoung explains with a sigh.

“A Level Five?” If you go by process of elimination-

“Yes, a Level Five.” Yuta’s hand finds your shoulder again, giving you a gentle squeeze. “When Mark met this Level Five, he puked- so Doyoung’s put a bucket by your foot… if you need it.”

“Why-” you swallow thickly. “I mean- if I already know it’s a Level Five, do I have to meet him? I thought you said I wouldn’t see many Level Fives-”

Doyoung sighs, and it’s a sound you’re becoming much too familiar with. “We don’t want the first time you see one being on the job- better to puke now rather than later. Besides, the Level Five coming in owns the club, he’s the one who gets the final say on you.”

Now you definitely feel like you’re going to hurl- and the elusive Level Five hasn’t even entered the room yet.

“He’s not that bad,” Yuta reassures you, but you suppose it’s a very Level Four thing for him to say. The wolf behind you can never know what it’s like to be in your shoes as a prey hybrid, so you take his opinion with a massive grain of salt.

“Usually I’d tell you not to trust Yuta,” the bear’s voice sounds again, “but in this case, he’s not wrong. Hyuck’s not so bad.”

If only you knew anything about the bear- about how accurate his perception might be.

Your skin is prickling with anxiety, but you know you’ll have to get used to being surrounded by upper level hybrids if you’re going to do well at this job, so you focus on your breathing.

A minute passes, and then comes the familiar noise of the door squeaking ever so slightly on its hinges.

A shiver runs from the tip of your toes all the way to the top of your head, and an overpowering energy overtakes you.

It’s not so much a smell as it is an overwhelming sense of unease.

Something isn’t right- and you’re pretty sure it’s the new Level Five who’s just entered the room.

“Good job on not puking,” Yuta laughs, patting your shoulder again.

“She’s got a better stomach than Mark,” the bear adds, and as much as you might wish to defend your brother, you can hardly bring yourself to even open your mouth to speak.

“This little bunny is a fighter, isn’t that right?” The smoothness of the unfamiliar voice takes you back a little, and despite your eyes being covered, you get the sense that the Level Five has a pretty face to match his pretty voice.

You itch to take the blindfold off- to get a look at the elusive hybrid.

You wonder what markings he might have that would point you in the direction of identifying what, exactly, he is.

“Can I-” you swallow thickly, and the hybrid’s smokey scent that fills your lungs makes your throat feel dry again, “Can I take this off?”

You reach a hand up towards your face, but Yuta is one step ahead of you, pulling the blindfold from your head.

At first, your eyes take a moment to adjust to the light, but your prey instincts are quick to get a gauge on the Level Five.

He’s handsome- more handsome than you could have imagined. But he’s also young- close to your age, you’d guess, if looks are anything to go by-

Fluffy brown hair and caramel eyes match the pretty tan skin that almost shines golden in the light.

You can’t spot any hybrid marks, not even a tail, and you’re completely blindsided by what the man in front of you might be.

“Hi, bunny.” The Level Five grins at you, and the sharp canines that greet you are the only hint towards his hybridism- although, without visible floppy ears, you highly doubt the man in front of you is any sort of dog.

“If you’re looking for hybrid marks, good luck finding them,” Doyoung tells you, pursing his lips. The large, obvious, black wings that protrude from his back ruffle with annoyance, and you wonder how many other prey hybrids have been enthralled by this Level Five’s lack of clear hybrid marks.

“Hyuck’s good at hiding,” Yuta notes. “Come on, give her a hint.”

“But just know,” the bear quips, “you’re not going to leave this room with any definitive answers about what he is. That information is for people who’ve proven their loyalty here.”

“Something tells me she’ll be loyal,” the Level Five, or ‘Hyuck’ as they’ve called him, is looking at you like you’re dinner. “Isn’t that right, little bunny?”

“Yes, sir,” you respond without a moment’s hesitation, clearing your throat. “I’m loyal. It’s a Lee family trait.”

While you’re talking about your brother, you suppose Lee Jeno is also quite loyal, although that might be more of a dog and doberman trait than a Lee-specific one.

The Level Five continues to stare at you, and then his pretty caramel eyes seem to flick with a new colour, almost like a flame, licking from his iris- within a moment his eyes are a fiery red that makes your heart practically stop in your chest, because… you’ve seen these eyes before.

You’d seen them that night when you’d first visited the bar, watching you from up in VIP.

It becomes clear to you that the ‘manager’ who you’d caught the attention of is none other than the Level Five himself.

7: Sunday

“You look tired.” Mark’s usually not the type to enjoy seeing you burnt out, but he’s hopeful that one night on the job had been enough to show you that you might not be cut out for bar life.

“I am tired,” you sigh, taking a seat at the breakfast table.

He watches you for a moment, but when it’s clear you’re intent to just pick at the apple in your hand, he decides to prompt you for more. “Aren’t you going to tell me how it went?”

You groan.

“I mean-” he swallows, “obviously you made it past their scent test-”

“Speaking of which,” now your eyes are on him, and you shift in your seat, “you have to tell me what kind of hybrid Hyuck is!”

Mark nearly chokes on his coffee.

You’re on a first name basis with Lee Donghyuck?!

“When did you meet him?!” Mark gasps.

“What do you mean ‘when did I meet him’?” You roll your eyes. “He was the Level Five in my scent test!”

“He was?!” This is definitely news to Mark.

Your brows furrow with confusion. “Wasn’t he yours too?”

“Of course not! Mine was Renjun!”

“Who the heck is Renjun?”

Mark doesn’t answer- after all, there’s truly no way to explain who Renjun is, not without giving you details about his Level Five status-

“Look, this ‘Renjun’ dude doesn’t matter,” you insist. “I need to know what Hyuck is.”

Mark’s throat goes dry, and he rubs his thumb against the coffee mug in his hand. “I mean… you know I can’t tell you that.” Mark sighs. “What do you think he is.”

“I don’t-” You bite at your lip. “A giant snake? His eyes go red- that’s… that’s kind of snake-like, right? And his skin has a pretty sort of golden sheen sometimes. No one’s described what Level Five’s are yet, so I don’t even know what general hybrid types to be considering. A snake doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, but maybe he’s exotic or something? Are Level Five’s exotic predator types?”

The bunny opens his mouth, then closes it. He’s not sure what to say.

“Come on, Mark-” you groan. “Please?”

“Look…” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I really can’t tell you what Hyuck is. He’s my boss’s boss’s boss or something- but… you’ll probably never meet Renjun, so… if I tell you what he is- maybe it will help give you some ideas?”

“I really don’t see how it will help-”

“That’s because you have no idea what a Level Five is- they’re not even in the same ballpark as snakes, which are Level Three’s, by the way.”

“Fine,” you give in. “Tell me what Renjun is.”

“But you have to promise not to repeat this anywhere. And if you end up meeting him… you’ll have to pretend you had no clue about his hybrid type... deal?”

“Of course! Who am I going to tell anyways?”

“Yeji for one, or Ryujin-”

“Yeah, yeah-” you wave a hand. “I promise I won’t.”

He studies you for a second.

You’ve never been one to go back on your word, and after a deep breath, Mark Lee goes back on his own promise not to reveal a Level Five hybrid type.

He supposes sending you into a monster’s den with no clue what you could be up against isn’t the best idea in the world- and perhaps this will finally show you why he’s so hesitant to allow you anywhere near his work.

“Renjun- well…” Mark takes a deep breath. “He’s a phoenix.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then you let out a small laugh. “Stop teasing me.”

“I’m not,” Mark tells you earnestly.

Your eyes search his face for any sign that he could be playing around, and then you’re jaw is dropping. “A phoenix?!”

“Lower your voice!”

When you speak next, it’s in a half yelled whisper; “Pheonix’s exist?!”

“Yeah.”

“So what does that make Hyuck?!”

“You’ve got to drop the Hyuck thing,” Mark groans. “I told you about Renjun, now just trust me when I tell you to stay away from your bosses. That includes Johnny… and Yuta.”

“Again with the hypocrisy, Mark-”

“Just-” he reaches over and places his hand over yours. “Please.”

Your energy dies down before his very eyes, and Mark can guess that it’s probably because he’s made a point not to ask you for much in your life.

He’s glad that this ‘please’ packs a punch.

“Fine,” you say, taking a deep breath. “But I’m still choosing to work at the bar.”

“Oh my Jesus-”

“We need the money!” you insist.

He can’t argue there. “When are you on shift?”

“You’re not going to like this- but uh… they have me on off days right now? Monday through Wednesday-”

“You know I don’t work Monday through Wednesday,” Mark groans, hating the idea that you’ll be at the club without him there to protect you.

Sure, Mark’s a bunny hybrid, but he’s a bunny that bites… if he has to.

“I know, I know-” you sigh. “But I checked the shift chart and it looks like Jaemin will be there, Jisung too!”

He’s glad you’ll have to familiar faces at least. “Who’s the Level Three bouncer?”

“The golden retriever- Jungwoo I think his name was?”

Mark feels himself relax a little. He knows Jungwoo’s character- and despite being a puppy, the dog can hold his own. “I guess you could be working with worse people.”

“Don’t be so hard on your coworkers,” you laugh.

It’s his bosses he’ll have to be explicitly hard on if he’s going to keep you away from them, and Mark knows it.

8: Monday

When you arrive to the club for your first official shift, it begins very much like the training one had. Taeil meets you at the front door and hurries you through the space.

“Doyoung’s in a bad mood,” he tells you, deer ears flickering with something like anxiety. “Something ruffled his feathers this morning. But… it should be an easy night.”

“Oh, okay.” You’re not sure what else to say, and you instead opt for being quiet, adjusting your silky black shirt and toying with the cuff link by your wrist.

“It’s a nice outfit,” Taeil continues, watching your movements with a doe like expression. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if someone tells you to wear a dress next time.”

You swallow thickly and look down at what you consider to be your ‘fancy pants.’

When you’d gotten dressed, you’d decided to go a more modest route. Mark always heads to work in dark attire, and you’d done your best to match it, but you suppose it’s no shock that the bosses might prefer for their female bunnies to be in something a little more showy.

“I’ll uh- look through my wardrobe?” you suggest, as your eyes lock in on the regal raven man who’s just come through the door leading to the back of the bar.

Taeil laughs, and it’s the first time you’ve seen the serious deer hybrid smile. “Don’t worry, outfits will be provided. We’ve had a few bunny bottle girls, and Doyoung has stats on what attire gains the best tips.”

Why are you not surprised that Doyoung has outfit to tip ratio statistics.

“I guess Taeil’s already given you my critique then,” the raven says smoothly as you approach. “Dresses will be provided… if you make it through this first official shift.”

He makes it sound like he thinks you might fail, and it only makes you more determined to prove your worth.

“Tonight you’ll be doing bottle service,” Doyoung explains as he leads you through to the back section.

You’re a little surprised to see a few Level Four hybrids already bustling about by the bar, and when you’re ushered into the staff room, two familiar faces make you feel more at home.

“Little Lee bunny!” Jaemin grins, pulling you into a hug. “Mark told me you’d be working here, but I almost didn’t believe it!”

“Believe it,” Doyoung grunts. “You’ll be showing her the ropes of being a bottle person. Jisung-” your eyes shift to the other man you’ve met in passing, “you’ll be on the door with Jungwoo. Y/N got an intro course in manning the door, and she’ll end the shift with you, got it?”

“Yes, mister Kim.” The hamster hybrid nods solemnly, flashing you a shy smile before scurrying off.

“Speaking of Jungwoo though-” Doyoung sighs, “where is that dog?”

“I believe we passed him at the bar on the way in here?” you suggest, recalling the familiar scent that had briefly caught the attention of your senses as Doyoung had rushed you to the staff room.

The raven looks at you, and then he flashes you a pretty gummy smile. “You are quick on your feet, aren’t you?”

“I try.” You can feel your skin heating at the compliment.

“What else did you smell on the way in here?” he prompts.

“I think- a handful of Level Threes and Fours by the bar- but not a Five in sight.”

“And if you see a Five?” Doyoung presses.

“I’ll assume that as door man, Jisung has made a note of it, but I’ll also come tell you- if it’s not Hyuck or Renjun.”

“Very good,” the raven nods at you. Then he takes a deep breath. “I should warn you both, before shift officially starts-” his eyes shift to Jaemin, “Johnny and Yuta are planning to stop by tonight to see how our new hire is doing-”

“What?” Jaemin’s nose scrunches up with distaste. “But they never come in on Mondays!”

“I know, and I told them not to.” Doyoung sighs again, “It will just throw off our team, but- like I said, they want to see our newest bunny in action.”

Jaemin groans. “Jeez-”

“Just remember,” Doyoung looks at you, “Level Fours - and Fives - can be difficult to manage. Stick close to Jaemin, and if you need anything, come let me know.”

“Okay,” you nod diligently.

“You’re part of my team now.” The raven hybrid offers you a smile. “And I’m not about to let anything bad happen on shift tonight.”

9: Monday con't

Yuta hasn’t been able to take his eyes off of you for what feels like hours. Sure, he might have a little something something going on with your older brother, but he thinks there’s no harm in watching you… it’s for scientific purposes, really.

Okay, maybe more like his own twisted pervert purposes, but who’s going to judge a wolf like him?

“She is cute, I’ll give you that,” Johnny says, drawing Yuta’s attention. “I can see why Hyuck likes her.”

After a moment to consider the bear’s words, Yuta nods, gaze shifting back to you. “And she seems good at the job.”

In the two hours they’ve been sitting in VIP and watching you, you’ve definitely impressed not only them, but many other Level Fours as well.

A snow leopard acquaintance and business partner had even approached the two owners of the club to enquire about you, and Kun’s generally not the type to get so easily enthralled, especially not by bottle girls and workers.

Even though you’re shadowing Jaemin today, you’ve noticed Yuta and Johnny’s drinks being low, and have personally brought over a bottle of champagne for refills, a bright smile on your face every time.

Yuta’s already tipped you more than he’d tipped Mark on his first day doing bottle service, and that’s saying something.

He can’t help it though. There’s something about you- something that makes him want to risk it all-

But there’s also a voice in the back of his mind that tells him not to. For one, he has Mark- and even more- you’ve caught Hyuck’s attention.

Hyuck’s a collector of pretty things, and he can be quite defensive when he thinks someone’s impeding on his territory.

No, Yuta’s better sticking with the elder Lee bunny, and he just hopes any man that’s interested in you has the brains to rethink testing Hyuck’s patience.

10: Tuesday

Although Johnny is one of Hyuck’s most trusted confidants, the Level Five finds himself calling up the wolf in his company for details about your first day.

As a friend of your brother’s, Yuta can provide insight Johnny might not be able to- and besides, Yuta always tells it as it is. He’s not one for fancy language or tiptoeing around, and that’s one of the things Hyuck appreciates most about him.

The wolf answers his phone on the second ring, and Hyuck pays the same respect that Yuta always does; he doesn’t bother inching around the reason he called, and goes straight to ask; “How was our new bunny on shift yesterday?”

“I mean…” Yuta lets out a chuckle, “She’s Mark’s sister, so she took to it pretty naturally. But that’s not too surprising, is it?”

“I guess not.” Hyuck can’t help but smile. He enjoys hearing that you’re already excelling at your new job, and it extends past the pride of a boss finding a new money maker. “I hear she was on bottle duty yesterday.”

“Uh huh, kept my drink full the whole evening.”

“So she’s even better than Jaemin,” Hyuck’s grin widens.

“It’s not that hard to be better than Jaemin.” Yuta’s eye roll is practically audible.

The wolf has never been a fan of the lazy bunny, but Hyuck keeps Jaemin employed for his own entertainment.

“Anyways,” Yuta continues, “a few VIP’s even enquired about our new hire, said she was doing a good job.”

“Really?” Hyuck feels the flames of jealousy licking across his skin. “Who?”

“Kun and Ten mostly, but I think everyone was pretty eager to watch her work. Scurrying around with her little grey bunny tail and those twitchy ears-”

Hyuck will have to deal with Kun and Ten if it comes down to a turf war over his new bunny, but for now, he takes a deep breath, mind more pleasantly occupied; “What was she wearing?”

“I guess no one told her about our affinity for bottle girls in little black dresses-” Yuta sighs. “But she still looked absolutely delicious in black pants and a satin dress shirt.”

“What have I told you about preying on my bottle girls?” Hyuck can’t let this comment slide.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuta sighs. “I was just trying to paint a pretty picture for you.”

As if Yuta has to verbalize that you looked good enough to eat. Hyuck’s way past that.

“Hey,” the wolf catches Hyuck’s mind from drifting, “just so you know- I know that Girl-Bunny-Lee is off the table. You don’t usually go for bunnies, so a few others might get confused, but… well, I know she’s yours.”

Hyuck takes a moment to consider his friend’s words.

What Yuta’s just said is true though, Hyuck generally isn’t one to spend too much time with Level Ones. He has a preference for Level Four big cat hybrids; panthers, tigers, he’s even had a daring lion or two-

Bunnies always get jumpy around Hyuck, and for good reason.

He’ll enjoy breaking you in- in more ways than one.

“I appreciate that you know your boundaries, wolf,” Hyuck says smoothly. “To ensure that everyone else knows not to toe the line, how about you talk to Doyoung about putting our newest little bunny on bottle service for Friday night. Mark will be working- it will give us both a chance to watch our Level Ones scurrying around.”

“You know, boss,” Yuta chuckles, “I like the way you think.”

11: Friday

Mark can feel his annoyance practically perfuming off his own form, and he’s not the only one who’s noticed. While transiting to work, the few other prey hybrids on the bus have moved away from him, and you keep shooting him worried looks.

A few stops from the club, a human couple leaves, and Mark is quick to snatch the newly vacated seats.

He lets out a deep sigh as he sits down, immediately leaning against the window to cast his gaze outside.

“Mark, stop being such a party pooper,” you say in a hushed tone, gently poking at his side.

He rolls his eyes.

“Seriously. I know it’s a little fast that I’m working a busy shift, but that means more tips, and isn’t making money the whole point of this?”

“I just-” he groans again. “It’s a Friday night, all the VIP big bosses will be there-” He bites his tongue, although he has much more to say. Like how he knows Hyuck’s the reason you’re working tonight, because Hyuck has final say on shifts, and any change in schedule immediately points to the picky Level Five having his hand in it.

“So what if all the big bosses are there?” you ask. “I’ll just work harder to swindle them for their money.”

You’re trying to lighten the mood, and Mark can’t help but crack a small smile.

“You need to be realistic about this though,” he warns you. “Do your job, be nice, but don’t be too nice. Do you understand?”

“I’ll only do what I’m paid to do,” you nod. “Honestly, I think you’re overthinking this. Doyoung’s been a great manager, and tonight’s going to be fine.”

He wants to tell you that you’re too trusting. That you’re a naive little bunny going into a den of upper level hybrids - some of whom, you can’t even truly name.

He might have told you that Renjun is a phoenix, but you still have no idea what you’re going up against when dealing with Hyuck.

“Just-” Mark sighs again. “Don’t be too nice.”

12: Friday con't

It’s a busy night, and Hyuck gets a fabulous view of you and other ‘bottle bitches’ running around his club.

You’re in a black dress, and in many other work places, it would be considered much too short. In fact, the only thing truly keeping the fabric over the rump of your cute little bum is your fuzzy grey tail.

Hyuck thanks god for hybrid specific clothing, and he makes a mental note to congradulate Doyoung on quickly taking care of your wardrobe. Yuta had mentioned the pants you wore to your first shift were nice… but Hyuck doubts that much could look better on you than this.

You look good enough to eat, and Hyuck wants to unwrap you-

But he’s not the only one.

An hour goes by, then two, and as the night gets more lively, a few Level Four hybrids get increasingly cocky with you, much to Hyuck’s annoyance.

Hell, even a few Level Threes who should be working seem to be revolving around you.

Hyuck’s not sure if it’s because they’re also seeing the way men are looking at you, or if they themselves are as into you as everyone else seems to be.

You had come to the club with Jeno your first time, and as Hyuck watches the doberman practically do laps around you while you scurry about, he wonders if there’s anything going on between the two of you.

After tracking you with his eyes for half an hour more, Hyuck decides there’s no way you could be dating Jeno. Hyuck would have smelt you on his doberman, and while Jeno often comes in smelling a little like bunny, it’s always been Jaemin and Mark’s scent still lingering on his skin.

Hyuck is getting increasingly impatient watching you tend to the lower section of the bar. While he’d insisted on having you work tonight, Doyoung had been just as firm about Jisung being the bottle bitch to the VIP’s, and Hyuck’s not sure how much longer he can go without seeing you up close.

Doyoung’s not usually one to put his foot down when Hyuck gives him orders, and as Hyuck watches Doyoung watch you, he begins to wonder about even the raven’s integrity when it comes to pretty little bunnies.

It’s near the end of your shift when something happens that finally allows Hyuck to act; a tiger hybrid seated at a booth catches your arm as you rush past him with a bottle of champagne. The roughness of the sudden grip makes you stagger.

Hyuck’s on his feet in an instant, eyes fixed on you.

The tiger leans up to say something in your ear, and even with top hybrid hearing, Hyuck can’t make it out with all the noise in the room. However, by your reaction, it’s obvious that what ever has been said, well… it doesn’t sit right.

A look of shock crosses your features, your jaw dropping-

Hyuck hurries down the stairs of VIP. He’ll make it to you in less than five seconds-

The tiger hybrid stands up and everything seems to go in slow motion for the Level Five. He’s optimized for this kind of thing, this kind of situation- and his body kicks into high gear, muscles tensing-

The champagne slips from your hand-

Before it can hit the floor, Hyuck’s fingers are wrapping around the bottle’s neck, and in one aggressive motion, he’s using it like a baseball bat and wacking the shit out of the tiger hybrid’s shoulder.

Glass and booze explode at the contact, shards and bubbly spraying every direction.

The tiger hybrid recoils and others jump at the sudden eruption of anger that had come from a VIP who hardly leaves his section. If the big cats and other predators in the vicinity hadn’t smelt Hyuck for what he is before, well- it’s obvious to everyone who the big boss is now.

“Don’t you know anything about being in a club?!” Hyuck rages at the tiger, who practically shrinks under his fiery gaze. “You can look, but don’t you ever think about touching one of my bunnies like that again!”

“I’m sorry-” the man’s eyes are full of fear, and the smell of it makes Hyuck’s lungs burn.

In his periphery, Hyuck sees Jeno, Jungwoo and Doyoung rushing to surround him. He sees Jeno reach for you, protectively putting you behind his back-

“Throw this guy out,” Hyuck announces to his subordinates. “And tell Mark to make a note by his name.” His gaze lands on the cowering hybrid. “If you comes back here, I’ll do worse than break a champagne bottle.”

Hands grab at the tiger, and he’s hauled off by the two dogs who do Hyuck’s bidding.

The Level Five inhales deeply to calm himself, running a hand through his curls before turning to look at you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine-” you assure him, but you sound breathless, and your eyes are wide.

“Was that really necessary?” Doyoung asks. “Cleaning the champagne and glass up is going to be a shit show-”

“Yes, it was necessary,” Hyuck snaps. “Everyone here needs to know-” he casts his eyes around at the predator hybrids that frequent his club, “employees at my club are off limits.”

“I’m sure they know that now.” The raven isn’t even bothering to hide his exasperation. Surely he wouldn’t have handled things this way, in such an abrupt and aggressive manner- but he’s not Hyuck, and he’s not a Level Five.

Hyuck looks at you again, assessing you for any sign of injury. Up close, you’re even prettier than he could have imagined, and you meet his gaze with those wide, wonderous eyes of yours-

“Your shift is over,” Hyuck declares. “It’s been an eventful night. I’ve been watching you scurry around for hours.”

“But-” you and Doyoung both go to argue, and Hyuck holds up a hand.

“It’s her first night working a busy shift,” Hyuck states. “I think she’s had enough.”

“I-” you bite on your lip. “Thank you- but… I mean, I have to stay here until Mark’s shift is over in half an hour anyways-”

“Then how about you join me in VIP while you wait for your brother.”

Doyoung lets out an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, eyes rolling before he turns to leave. No doubt he’s had enough of this conversation, enough of Hyuck- and the Level Five doesn’t mind. This is a conversation best had without the stickler raven hanging around.

“Thanks for the offer- but I really shouldn’t. Mark wouldn’t like it, and I mean… you’re my boss after all.”

Hyuck lets out a chuckle. “That’s never stopped Mark from joining Yuta when his shift is over. Your brother sounds like a hypocrite if he’d get upset at you joining me.”

You blink up at him- and then you’re smiling and Hyuck feels like he’s on cloud nine. “That’s what I’ve been saying! He’s been very hypocritical lately!” Then you do something no bunny before has ever done, you lean closer to Hyuck, lowering your voice; “He sort of told me to stay away from you.”

Hyuck’s grin widens. “So you and your hypocrite brother have been talking about me, huh?”

Your pretty bunny ears twitch, and you cast your eyes down with embarrassment. “Not at length- he still won’t tell me what type of hybrid you are-”

“Come have a drink with me, and maybe you’ll find out.”

You look up at him again, and Hyuck can tell you’re searching his face for a sign of deception. Then you give in; “Fine. I’ll have one drink while I wait for Mark, but not in VIP.”

It’s almost like you’re taunting him, and when you turn to head toward the bar, Hyuck’s natural predatory instincts kick in. He gives in to the chase, following close on your heels.

People part for Hyuck as he walks through the busy dance floor. He supposes they could just be being careful from the champagne bottle incident, but there’s also the fact that he gives off intense vibes. Even without knowing what Level Five hybrids are, many of the Fours in the room have no problem identifying him, once in a blue moon when he comes down from VIP.

Yuta had told Hyuck when they’d first met that he simply smells and feels like an other- something not of their normal hybrid world. And Hyuck supposes there’s some merit to that.

He joins you at the bar, and within an instant, his persian kitty bartender, Taeyong, is rushing up to take his order. Doyoung eyes Hyuck from the end of the bartop, but keeps his distance.

In record speed, two drinks are being sat in front of you, and Hyuck can finally give you his full attention. “So how’d a bunny like you get into working restaurants?”

“Hmm?”

“Your resume,” Hyuck clarifies. “It said you’ve worked in the industry before.”

“Oh, uh-” you fiddle with the straw in your drink, “I mean- growing up, Mark used to call me Little Miss Energizer Bunny, you know, like the battery? And I guess, I’ve always liked being helpful, so running around a room and making sure people are happy seems like a no brainer.”

Hyuck watches you with a smile. He likes the idea of you being a little Energizer Bunny- his little Energizer Bunny.

“How about you?” you ask, lifting your chin to appear confident in your question, but your eyes and twitchy ears betray you. “How does a young Level Five like yourself end up owning a club?”

Hyuck chuckles. “I’m not as young as I look.”

“Really? Is this a hint as to your hybrid type? I will figure it out, you know.”

You’re his little Sherlock Holmes the Energizer Bunny. It’s cute.

“Sure you will,” Hyuck says, although there are doubts in his mind. “How are you liking the work here?”

“I’m enjoying it,” you tell him. “All my coworkers are really nice, and Doyoung is a great manager.”

Hyuck can’t help but crack a smile at this. The raven has had many complaints against him in the past, mostly from Jaemin and Jeno, who think he’s much too strict and bitchy- but Hyuck guesses there’s no surprise that Doyoung puts his best foot forward with you.

The Level Five opens his mouth to ask another question, but before he can, he notices your brother weaving through the crowd behind you.

“Uh-” Mark coughs awkwardly, gently tapping you on your arm, “Doyoung said there was an altercation- said I should take you home early?”

Maybe Hyuck will have to file a complaint against Doyoung too, for being a royal cock block.

“Oh, yeah-” you nod quickly, “let me finish my drink-”

Hyuck watches the way you suck on your straw, and his mouth starts to water. It takes all his energy to force his eyes to your brother. “You usually bus, don’t you, Mark? I could get someone to drive you both home.”

“We’ll be fine,” Mark states, and there’s a stubborn set to his jaw even though he can’t truly meet Hyuck’s gaze. “I’m sure y/n made enough tips to pay for a cab.”

Hyuck would be entertained by Mark’s big brother protectiveness, if it wasn’t directed at warding him off. But Hyuck also supposes that, if he were in Mark’s shoes and had a sister, especially one as cute as you, he’d be doing the same thing Mark is doing right now.

“Your call, Markie.” Hyuck raises his glass, nodding at the bunny whose cheeks are now a pretty shade of pink. “Get home safe, and I’ll see you-” his eyes meet yours, “sometime soon.”

It’s a promise, but it also might just be a threat.

13: Friday con't

At first, the atmosphere in the cab is tense, silent. Mark is like a brewing volcano on your right side, and you’re just waiting for him to say something. Yet, your brother throws none of his anger your way.

It almost feels like you’re going to get home unscathed, and then all of the sudden Mark is throwing his hands up and looking at you with an exasperated expression; “I thought I told you to stay away from him!”

You’re too stunned to speak. Mark hardly ever raises his voice at you, and the fact that he’s doing this in front of your driver when you’re already so close to home is just as shocking as the outburst itself. “I-”

“I’m serious, y/n-” Mark’s eyes flicker to the taxi driver. “I don’t want to talk about levels too much right now, but- trust me- if you think Yuta and Johnny might be dangerous based on their hybrid types- just know that Hyuck is ten times worse than that!”

“He doesn’t seem that bad-”

“Doesn’t seem that bad,” Mark repeats, and you can’t tell if he’s about to laugh or cry.

Your brother opens his mouth to say more, but the taxi comes to a stop in front of your apartment, and the obviously uncomfortable driver quietly tells you how much you owe him.

You grab money out of your work fanny pack, tossing it into the front of the cab before exiting the vehicle. There’s much more you want to say to your brother, but it’s not going to be said in front of some innocent bystander who’s just trying to make a living.

“Mark, I hate to say it,” you follow him towards the entryway of your building, “but you’re being extremely hypocritical right now.”

“Me?! How?!” Even in the middle of an argument, Mark holds the apartment lobby door open for you.

“Don’t act as if you’re not involved with Yuta. He’s a Level Four, and I see how much calmer you are when he’s around. He’s like a protector, maybe I’d like a protector too.”

You think back to how Hyuck had appeared out of nowhere when the tiger hybrid had been aggressive to you, and you feel dirty at the way your panties begin to stick to your core-

“Then go for Jeno or something! Why does it have to be Hyuck?! He’s a Level Five!” Mark insists as you enter the elevator. “And he’s probably got a bunny fetish-”

“Mark Lee-” you say, shocked beyond belief, “for someone who’s paid to pay attention, you don’t seem to notice the hybrid types that usually surround Hyuck in VIP. They’re all cats, Mark- big cats!”

Your brother doesn’t seem to have a rebuttal for you, so you continue; “Besides, he might not even like me that way…”

“Jeno said that the guy practically swooped down from VIP and smashed a champagne bottle over a tiger hybrid’s head just to protect you.”

“He smashed it over the guy’s arm and shoulder area,” you correct.

“Still!” Mark insists. He takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, his tone has calmed down substantially. “Please,” your brother sighs, “trust me on this.”

Doesn’t he know rule number 3 of the imaginary sister code? Never take your brother’s advice, especially when it comes to love.

And you don’t intend to.

14: Saturday

“So I heard that then, Donghyuck comes down from VIP and straight up kills this tiger-”

Mark’s been listening to Xiaojun and Hendery discuss last night’s events since he came into the staff room five minutes ago. Usually their gossip isn’t something that interests him, but tonight, he feels the need to step in.

“He didn’t kill the tiger-” Mark groans, drawing the eyes of the other Level Ones who have just finished their own shifts.

“He didn’t?” Xiaojun blinks.

“He just- whacked him on the arm or something.” Mark shakes his head. “Jisung apparently spent an hour cleaning up all the shards.”

“That’s crazy, dude,” Hendery's large rat hybrid ears wiggle with distaste. He’s never been one to enjoy actually working at work, and even Mark had been a little shocked at how much their resident hamster friend had been forced to do to make up for their boss’s outburst.

“And it was over your sister, right?” Xiaojun presses.

Mark had entered this with a sneaking suspicion that the two of them were talking so openly about the incident to get more information, and the bunny decides he’s not about to fall into their feeble minded trap again.

Especially not when there are more important matters to attend to… like the schedule he’s currently looking at.

Just then, Doyoung walks into the room, and Mark jumps at the opportunity to discuss things with his manager.

“Hey-” the bunny grabs the attention of the raven, “it says here that my sister’s working Wednesday night, I thought you had her on afternoon shifts?”

“Oh-” Doyoung’s broad wings ruffle behind him, “yeah, there was a schedule change.”

“I thought I told you that I only wanted her working evening shifts when I can be here,” Mark sighs. Wednesday is the one night a week he has classes at his local college, and he’s pretty sure everyone here knows it, especially Doyoung.

“Unfortunately, Mark,” Doyoung adjusts a stray piece of hair that’s fallen haphazardly over his brow, “you’re a Level One, and this schedule change was recommended by someone much higher in the food chain than you.”

“Hyuck,” Mark states. Doyoung might not have said their head boss’s name, but Mark can feel the culprit in his very bones.

“He told me to offer to schedule you in as well,” Doyoung breathes, “but we both know you have class.”

Mark would bet all his savings that Hyuck knows it too.

There’s nothing he can do about it though. He can’t miss class.

He hates how easy it is for Hyuck to be a puppeteer, pulling on everyone’s strings. And above all, Mark especially hates how you’ll probably play right into the Level Five’s hands.

15: Wednesday

While Hyuck has always been the kind of guy to love watching his club make money, there’s something to be said about slow nights… or maybe it’s just the fact that you look calmer.

There aren’t fifty plus Level Fours surrounding you, just a handful of Wednesday night regulars, and it’s obvious to Hyuck from his vantage point in VIP that things are easier on you tonight than last Friday.

He’d also be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way you pay particular attention to him. With only a few VIP clients in tonight, you have much more ability to watch his own cup, and you frequently pop up with a bottle of whisky to refill his glass.

On top of all of this, maybe it also has something to do with Mark not being present. Your brother's watchful gaze is understandable, but yet another barrier between you and Hyuck, a barrier he’d been quick to deal with.

Tonight, the door is manned by Jaehyun, the stoic black lab, and Jaemin, who looks down at his phone absentmindedly between guests arriving. Neither of these men are intent on watching you, and Hyuck hopes it stays that way.

He enjoys the way your gaze so often shifts to his table, even if it’s just to check on his drink, and for the countless time tonight, you hurry up the steps with his favourite whisky in hand.

“Can I refill that for you?” you ask.

Hyuck gently pushes his cup forward, remaining silent and watching you.

“I hate to ask this,” you say, as the amber liquid pours, “but should I maybe grab you some water? I’ve only been keeping this bottle out for you tonight, and you’ve already gone through most of it-”

“You’re concerned I can’t handle my liquor?” Hyuck grins. You’re such a funny, amusing, little thing.

“You can definitely handle this, much better than I could, at least,” you’re quick to assure him. “I just- technically my shift ends soon, and I think I’m the only one who’s really been paying attention to you. If I don’t go grab you some water, something tells me you’ll be neglected till closing.”

As if he couldn’t easily wave down Doyoung- but still, Hyuck enjoys the sentiment.

“If it would make you happy, you can go grab me some water,” he concedes.

You flash him a small smile, and then you’re scurrying off, his little bunny errand girl.

You return with water not two minutes later, and Hyuck has already pulled out a few bills. “Here,” he says, holding them out to you, “for paying special attention to me tonight.”

You blink at the wad of cash. “Sir, you don’t have to-”

“Of course I don’t have to,” Hyuck interrupts. “I own the place. I can do what I want. And what I want, is to give you this. As a token of my appreciation.”

He hasn’t bothered to count the exact amount, but he knows it’s somewhere in the hundreds, which is probably why you’re being so nervous about accepting it.

“Here,” Hyuck sighs, standing. He reaches out, tucking the cash between the waistband of your fanny pack and black dress that's been capturing his attention all shift. “Make sure you don’t lose this.”

“Thank you, I-” you blink up at him, and Hyuck sees something like stars in your eyes- or maybe that’s just the light reflecting from the disco ball. “Are you leaving?

“Yup,” Hyuck runs a hand though his hair, smirking and offering you a wink. “I’ll see you soon though, yeah?”

He likes the way you mutter “yeah” as if you have any choice in the matter, and then he heads down the VIP stairs, ignoring the glare that Doyoung casts his way.

16: Wednesday con't

“You should take a cab,” Mark tells you, and part of you wishes you’d never even called your brother while waiting at the bus stop.

“I’ll be fine,” you assure him. “It’s late so the bus will be empty.”

“Yeah, it’s late, which makes it more dangerous out there,” Mark insists.

You open your mouth to argue back, absentmindedly watching a black sports car slowly approach- and then the window is being rolled down, and Hyuck is looking out at you.

“Need a ride?”

“Mark, good news,” you say into your phone, “Hyuck just offered me a lift.”

“Don’t get in his car,” comes your brother’s stern response.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you, line’s breaking up-” you lie, “See you in ten!” Then you hang up on Mark, addressing Hyuck for the first time. “Yes, thank you, I’d really appreciate it.” You grab the door handle, getting into the car and quickly telling him your address. “Mark was just hassling me about busses being dangerous-”

“Good thing you’re safe in here with me now, huh?” Hyuck grins, waiting for you to have your seatbelt on before he pulls away from the curb.

“Very safe,” you confirm, even as your bunny senses take a moment to adjust to his overpowering scent. The fiery nature of his presence is something you’ve gotten more and more used to, and in the back of your mind you wonder if he - like his business partner Renjun - is a phoenix of some sort.

“You did good today, on shift,” Hyuck says, and the praise makes your heart sing in your chest.

“Thank you.”

“And you’re doing good now, too, you know. Not many Level One hybrids like to be near me, let alone locked in a car with me.” Hyuck’s fingers gently tap on the steering wheel. “Did your brother ever tell you how he puked the first time we met?”

You laugh. “Mark hasn’t talked about it, but Yuta mentioned it during my scent trial.”

“If you feel sick, let me know and we’ll roll down a window,” Hyuck teases.

“I mean,” you feel your skin heating, “I’ve got butterflies in my stomach, but it’s not puking related.”

Hyuck sneaks a glance at you. “Really?”

“Uh huh.” You look away shyly.

A moment later, his warm hand is finding the middle of your thigh, and he gives you a gentle squeeze.

“You’re cute, bunny,” he tells you, and just as you think things might get even hotter, he pulls away, fingers returning to the wheel. “It’s good to have you on the team.”

“It’s good to be on a team.” Good to feel appreciated.

Hyuck’s a fast driver, and the roads are dead on a Wednesday night, so you’re turning onto your street much sooner than you’d wish to be. To your surprise, you can already see Mark waiting on the curb for you.

“And there’s your brother,” Hyuck sighs. He pulls over a little distance away from your apartment, and Mark begins approaching. “I guess I’ll see you at your shift on Friday night.”

“I guess so.”

“You should plan on ending early again, I’ll want your company in VIP.”

“Is Doyoung going to be okay with that?” you question. “And besides, who says I want to come to VIP? Haven’t I told you already that you’re my boss-”

“Look,” Hyuck cuts you off, “If you weren’t up for it, you wouldn’t be in my car right now.”

He’s right, but you won’t admit it. You just stare at him as Mark comes all the way up to the car with a mildly frustrated scrunch to his nose-

“Like I said,” Hyuck laughs, watching you reach for the handle to exit his vehicle, “I’ll see you at your next shift.”

17: Saturday

“You’ve gotta stop eye fucking my new hire.”

Hyuck assesses Doyoung over the rim of his whisky glass. It’s a busy Saturday night and Hyuck can’t believe the raven hybrid is broaching this subject now of all times.

“Uh oh,” Hyuck grins at Yuta next to him. “Looks like I’ve ruffled some feathers…” His gaze shifts to Doyoung again, “I’ve gotta stop eye fucking your new hire.. Or what?”

“Or we’re going to lose Mark, his sister, and Jaemin and Jeno, because those two losers do everything Mark does-”

“They might be losers, but neither Jaemin or Jeno is stupid enough to quit working here,” Hyuck scoffs. “Besides… why is it so wrong for me to want to get to know the cutest Lee bunny?”

“Well for starters,” Doyoung sighs with exasperation, “You’re her boss?!”

“Get on Yuta’s back then,” Hyuck chuckles, nudging the wolf seated next to him.

“And second-” Doyoung continues, “because it’s just some weird bunny fetish, and it’s not good. Your intentions aren’t pure.”

“Bunny fetishes can be fun,” Yuta notes, and although Hyuck agrees with his friend, this is definitely not a case of Bunny fetishization… or at least, he doesn't think it is.

“I’m getting awfully tired of you questioning me,” Hyuck sighs.

Doyoung lowers his voice, but his words are still laced with venom when he says “And I’m getting tired of you watching y/n work her butt off to pay rent while you sit up here at VIP drinking expensive whisky!”

“You know what?” Hyuck stands up. “Fine! If you want me to be a gentleman about it, I’ll go and ask her on a real date, how’s that sound?”

“That’s not what I meant-” Doyoung’s pale skin flushes a deep red colour, and it only pushes Hyuck to act quicker.

“Too late, I’m going, right now.” He brushes by the dumbstruck raven, heading down the VIP stairs.

His eyes are on the prize; you. Specifically, his gaze is fixed on your cute little tail and perfect ass. Your back is to him as you stand at the bar, waiting for Taeyong to grab you a bottle of wine, and for a moment, Hyuck thinks it might be fun to ambush you-

Then he sees a shiver run up your spine, and you turn to look at him, lips parting in a silent question.

“Hey you,” Hyuck grins. “Got a second?”

“For you, I have two or so minutes.”

“There’s my funny little bunny,” he says affectionately. “Listen, Doyoung’s mad that I keep looking at you. He thinks my intentions are- well, let’s just say he thinks I’m going to be a dick about this. To prove him wrong, I thought I’d ask you out. How do you feel about brunch?”

“I mean…” he watches you swallow thickly, “I love brunch- but, you don’t really seem like a brunch kind of guy?”

“That’s just because you don’t know me yet,” he winks at you. “Brunch is good because I work in the evenings.”

“Oh, right-”

“I know you’ve gotta quickly run away like the little Energizer Bunny you are, so I’ll make this quick. I know a place with a great view and the best mimosas in town… what do you say about tomorrow?”

You look up at him with those big pretty eyes of yours, and then your gaze shifts over his shoulder. He wonders if you’re looking for Mark, but then you’re nodding. “Pick me up at noon?”

Hyuck nods. “You got it, bunny. I do know where you live.”

18: Sunday

When Hyuck drives you to an expensive apartment building, you’re a little confused. But you play along as he parks in the underground and takes you to the elevator.

“The best mimosas in town,” he assures you. “I guarantee.”

“I trust you,” you laugh, leaning back against the wall of the lift and watching him with a smile.

He looks good today, but when does he ever not look good?

In black dress pants and a silky charcoal shirt, with its sleeves rolled up to expose tanned, veiny forearms-

Well, there’s a lot you want to do with the Level Five hybrid in front of you, things you’d never do with a boss.

You admire the golden tint to his skin, and think through a list of things he could be. There’s the phoenix, kitsune, dragon, griffin, chimera, unicorn- you’re pretty sure he’s not a unicorn, but at this point, he could be just about anything.

The elevator dings and the doors open. You find yourself walking into a lovely entry way, and you’re certain now that this location couldn’t possibly be a restaurant.

“Welcome to my home,” Hyuck tells you, flourishing an arm. “Also known as the place with the best mimosas in town.”

“Well aren’t you confident in your cocktail abilities,” you quirk a brow.

“Sure, but I’m actually talking about my private chef,” Hyuck laughs, leading you through a lush living room to the open concept kitchen, were low and behold, a human is standing there preparing food.

You can tell he’s not one of you by the way he smells, and the fact that, while still focused on his craft, his eyes are slow to find you. “Hi there,” the chef smiles.

“Y/N, this is Jin. Jin, this is our lovely brunch guest.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Jin waves his knife around as if it were his own hand giving you a greeting.

“I was thinking,” Hyuck’s palm finds the small of your back, “we could sit on the terrace, have some food, and I could give you a full tour later.”

“Works for me,” you agree, giving one final nod to the chef before allowing the Level Five to guide you through his home once more.

The terrace is lovely. The view is no joke, and it’s decorated modestly with a table and chairs, with many plants livening up the place and enjoying the sun. Hyuck pulls out a chair for you and you sit with your eyes still taking in all the lavish wonder his home has to offer.

“Wow,” you muse, smiling as he takes his own seat, “you’re really pulling out all the stops today, aren’t you?”

“I told Doyoung I’d be a gentleman, so here I am,” he shrugs.

“It’s nice that he’s so protective of me,” you muse.

“It feels like everyone who meets you feels protective,” Hyuck nods. “Is that just due to your bunny charm, or is it something deeper?”

“Let’s just leave it at bunny charm, don’t you think?” you laugh.

“So you’re not a little flirt then?”

You take a moment to respond, grinning before you tell him, “only for you.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

Jin arrives with mimosas a moment later, and before you know it, you’re sipping on your drink and laughing with Hyuck in the afternoon sun.

It’s easier to talk with him in this non work setting, and the view gives you a constant thing to marvel at- aside from the beautiful man you’re conversing with. You find it easier and easier to hold his gaze, but you’re still not fully comfortable with him yet.

The chef interrupts for a second time, holding two platters of food. On one is every veggie and fruit you could possibly imagine, and on the other are more suitable brunch foods.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” Hyuck says, scanning the eggs, bacon and sausage links, “so I told Jin to make whatever he’s best at. I hope there’s something here for you to eat.”

“This is wonderful,” you look to the chef, “thank you.”

He simply nods. “Is there anything else you two might need before I leave for the day?”

Hyuck waits for you to respond, and after another look at the food in front of you, you shake your head. “This will be perfect.”

Hyuck nods to his chef, and Jin excuses himself.

When you begin to put things on your plate, you keep your bunny ears open, listening to the chef grab his things and depart. It feels like a weight has been lifted as soon as you know you’re alone with Hyuck, and he visibly relaxes also.

“Something’s on your mind,” he says, toying with a piece of bacon. “Tell me.”

“I’m just thinking about what kind of hybrid you are,” you confess.

“Any guesses?”

“A few.”

“Let’s hear them then. Come on Bunny, spill.”

You smile at the Level Five. “At first, I thought you might be some kind of snake-”

“Definitely not.”

“Yeah, don’t be mad, but Mark told me I was way off. He also may have let it slip that one of your friends is a Phoenix-''

“He did, did he?” Hyuck arches a brow, but you don’t see any anger in his expression, only amusement.

“He did,” you confirm. “So I figure, if we’re in the realm of mythical beasts, well, I don’t see any hybrid marks on you-”

“It’s a Level Five adaptation,” he tells you. “So we can blend. Renjun can’t have fire wings protruding out of his back every day now can he? That’s a fire hazard if I’ve ever heard of one.”

“I guess not-” you laugh at the joke, “but… he does have wings?”

“They retract, back under the skin,” Hyuck nods.

“So… theoretically,” you put a fruit down on your plate, giving Hyuck your full attention, “you could be anything.”

“Theoretically.”

You assess him for a moment longer. “Okay, this information totally derails all my theories, but I guess, I was sort of thinking you could also be a phoenix, due to your eyes flaring red. Or maybe a kitsune because you’re kind of fox-like and mischievous-”

“Am I?”

“You definitely are,” you laugh.

“Any other theories?”

“I mean, you could always be a dragon or something-” you mean it as something of an off hand joke, but the way Hyuck’s chin tilts down ever so slightly- his eyes suddenly going serious- you think you may have just guessed your way into a truth “Wait, no, you can’t be-”

“Does it scare you?” Hyuck asks, cocking his head to the side.

You take a breath, trying to ground yourself in your own body. It’s hard to say exactly what you feel, but it’s definitely not fear. “Do you… do you have retractable wings too?”

“Big ones,” he confirms, “and they’re a pretty golden colour.”

Part of you wants to see them, but you bite your tongue, considering what he’d said about Renjun’s own wings. “Does it-” you swallow thickly, “does it hurt when you retract them?”

Hyuck watches you, and it’s a few moments before he answers. “No one’s ever asked me that before,” he confesses. “But yeah. It hurts.”

There’s silence at the brunch table. Your mind is going a million miles a minute, trying to process what he’s just revealed to you.

“Most people want to see my wings when they find out what I am,” he states. “Don’t you want to see them?”

“Not if it hurts you!”

Hyuck chuckles. “You’re a funny little bunny, has anyone ever told you that?”

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be,” he waves his hand. “You have nothing to be sorry for. In fact, I’m impressed. You guessed what I am, and like I said, most people just want to see my wings. They don’t care about the pain of skin tearing to reveal the mark of my hybrid self, but you do. I’ve gotta say…” the dragon sips his mimosa, “I like you, bunny.”

“You do?” your voice is practically a squeak.

“It might be stupid, but I’ve been around a long time- and I don’t think I’ve ever met someone quite like you, let alone a Level One.” Hyuck cocks his head to the side again, eyes scanning your form. “You’re something special, aren’t you, bunny?”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, your phone rings loudly in your purse.

“Shit,” you cuss, immediately knowing who’s calling; “it must be Mark-”

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say you haven’t told him who you’re with right now.”

“Of course not-” you swallow thickly. “I’m really sorry, but I have to answer this-”

“Go ahead.” Hyuck leans back in his chair, eyes never leaving you.

With one last sigh, you answer your phone. “Mark?”

“Where are you?”

“Uh-” you lick your lips, “Yeji wanted to meet up for a bit-”

“Are you coming home soon?” your brother presses. “Jeno said he’d help me move this new shelf into my room that we found down at the thrift store, but he bailed.”

“I can come help,” you say without a second thought.

“Awesome! See you soon then!”

“Bye!” You hang up, gaze lifting to meet Hyuck’s. “I’m really sorry-”

“Again, don’t be,” he tells you. “You’ve told me that you’re a bunny who likes to help, and it sounds like Jeno fucked Mark over. Of course you need to go help your brother, although- I have to admit, the idea of two bunnies carrying a bookshelf is a little amusing-” Hyuck downs the rest of his mimosa. “So our secret brunch gets cut short… come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”

19: Wednesday

Watching you work your Wednesday evening shift, Hyuck can’t get the thought of kissing you out of his head. When he’d dropped you off a block from your home on Sunday, he’d known it wasn’t the right time to make a move, and for two nights he’s been dreaming about what if’s.

What if he had kissed you. What if he had cupped your jaw and pressed his lips to yours, moving gently and taking things at your pace. What if his tongue had just happened to glide across your own, earning a pretty moan-

Every time you come to refill his cup, Hyuck finds his patience running thinner and thinner- by the time your shift is officially over, the dragon practically pounces, following you into the staff room.

To his dismay, Taeil is also there, and the Level Five has to push his instincts to the side. You can’t have your first kiss at work, and he hates it- but he knows it too.

“Hi, Hyuck,” you smile at him while pulling your bag from your locker, wrapping your hot little body in a jacket appropriate for the weather outside.

“Hi, Bunny.” He leans against the lockers, looking you up and down. “Shift’s over… how do you feel about coming over to my place,” his gaze moves to Taeil, “I need to talk to you about your resume.”

Taeil scoffs loudly, and it seems the lie hasn’t worked on you or the Level Two who hurries to exit the space.

“I can’t,” you frown. “As much as I’m sure my resume needs to be discussed, Mark’s waiting for me at home.”

“How about tomorrow?” Hyuck presses.

You cock a brow at him, and Hyuck wants to throw you against the lockers and have his way with you-

“Are you really that eager?” you question.

“Yes.”

You smile up at him, and each second you wait to answer is practically painful for the dragon. He’s used to getting what he wants, and what he wants right now, is you.

“I can see you tomorrow,” you confirm. “Your place again?”

“Uh huh,” Hyuck nods. “But this time, no private chef.”

“I wasn’t aware you wanted to get me alone so badly.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention.”

You laugh, and Hyuck only wishes you knew how much energy it’s taking to hold himself back from you right now.

“Let me give you a ride home,” Hyuck insists.

“You know,” you grin, “I’m finding it harder and harder to say no to you.”

Not only does Hyuck know this fact, he’s banking on it.

20: Wednesday con't

When you’d arrived home on Sunday, one whiff of you had told Mark that you’d been with Hyuck. The Level Five’s dragon scent had clung to you like the smell of weed on a stoner, and despite every fibre of his being telling Mark to cause a fuss about it, he’d tried to play things cool.

The more he argues with you about Hyuck, the more he realizes he has to come to terms with the fact that you’re going to do what you want to do, advice be damned.

To be fair, other than the overtly horrible way Mark’s body had reacted when he first met the dragon, Hyuck hasn’t ever actually done anything bad to Mark personally.

When you and he had been children, your mother had told you to follow your noses, and Mark had taken that as personal gospel. One wiff of the dragon had been enough to send him in the opposite direction… but his nose is not your nose.

If your nose is directing you towards the Level Five… then Mark supposes that’s your own truth, and maybe he has to respect that.

With all of this in mind, however, Mark still gets annoyed when you show up home from your shift wreaking of dragon. And he hates the way you walk down the street as if you’d taken the bus, as if you hadn’t gotten a ride home.

Mark holds the door open for you to enter your apartment building, and in the elevator, he finally finds his nerve to address the problem. “I really wish you wouldn’t hide things from me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Mark sighs, “if Hyuck drove you home, that’s fine. Next time, just tell him to drop you off where I can see you instead of parking around the corner.”

“Well what if he drops me off out of your sight because he wants to kiss me?”

“Has he kissed you?!” Mark’s hands ball into fists, an innate reaction when it comes to hearing a dragon may have done bits with his sister-

“No,” you confess. “But in the future he might.”

“So you guys are getting serious, huh?” Mark tries to control his breathing.

“I think so.” The elevator is quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry I’ve been lying to you about seeing him.”

Some of the tension in Mark’s shoulders dissipate, and he lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry I put you in a situation where you felt the need to lie… but, with that being said… if Hyuck ever hurts you, I don’t care if I’m a Level One bunny, I’ll kick that dude’s ass.”

“Sure you will, Mark,” you smile fondly at your brother as you leave the elevator.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are… and if I’m being honest, I don’t think anything ‘bad’ will happen, at least, not the type of things I think you’re expecting. Hyuck seems like a good guy. I don’t think he goes on real dates often, and that has to count for something, right?”

“I guess,” Mark sighs.

“Besides, stranger things have happened.”

“Stranger than a bunny falling for a dragon? Her biggest and most vicious natural predator?”

“Honestly,” you laugh, “the fact that Level Five’s even exist is pretty strange, even in a world full of hybrids.”

Mark can’t argue with you there.

21: Thursday

You definitely know what to expect when you get to Hyuck’s apartment, and the matching bra and pantie set under your dress is proof of it. What you’re not prepared for, however, is the way the dragon keeps his hands off of you even in the elevator.

Sure, his eyes are practically burning a hole into you, but he stays on his side of the lift.

“Hyuck?” you say his name as you step into the entryway of his penthouse.

“Should I give you a tour now?” he asks. “Seeing as we missed doing that last time-”

“I mean…” you play with the hem of your pretty dress, “sure, you can give me a tour.”

“But?” He smirks at you. “It sounds like there’s a but in there somewhere.”

“I was just…” you bite on your lip, “aren’t you going to tell me I’m pretty?”

His eyes visibly darken, and they take their sweet time looking you up and down. “You look good enough to eat, bunny.”

“Then why don’t you?” you ask. “Eat me, I mean. But in a sexy way, not a dragon way.”

Hyuck lets out a shaky breath, and then his hands are reaching for your waist, tugging you tight to his chest. “Is that really what you want?”

“Isn’t it what you want?”

“I need to know you’re not just doing this because you’re a people pleaser,” Hyuck says. “Or because I’m your boss.”

“Actually, I think I’m doing this despite the fact that you’re sort of my boss.”

“Yeah?” He grins, and you practically melt getting an up close and personal look at his pretty, sharp, canines.

“Please, Hyuck-” you ball your hands in the fabric of his crisp white dress shirt, “just kiss me.”

“Bunny,” his hand comes up to cup your cheek, “I thought you’d never ask.”

He’s surprisingly gentle as he presses his lips to your own, and for a moment, you wonder if he’s even a dragon at all. You’d expected him to be rough- as needy as he’d seemed last night. Instead, he’s controlled, thumb stroking your cheek bone while he kisses you with intention.

His tongue swipes past your bottom lip and you stifle a groan, shifting to wrap your arms around the back of his neck while you open your mouth for him.

Hyuck lets out something of a growl, and the sound nearly rattles your bones. It reminds you who you’re dealing with, and you find yourself clinging to him even tighter.

A whimper of pleasure escapes you and that’s all it takes for Hyuck to snap.

In one fluid motion, he reaches down and grabs your bum, lifting you up so your legs wrap around his waist. He’s strong, and you love it.

Nothing has ever felt as good as kissing him does, and you get lost in his lips- so lost, that you hardly even realize he’s carrying you through his home.

You break the kiss to catch your breath, and that’s when you notice he’s taken you to his room. His mouth is hot on your throat while you look around, soaking in the ambiance of his most personal space.

“Your room is nice,” you tell him, but your words come out in moans when he finds your sweet spot and his sharp teeth drag against your skin.

“Nicer with you in it,” comes his quick witted retort, and it makes your panties stick to your core uncomfortably.

“I like it when you praise me,” you whisper as he moves you closer to the bed, laying you down on the silky covers.

“Yeah?” Hyuck looks down at you, breaking your body contact enough for him to tear off his shirt. “My little bunny likes being told what a good girl she is?”

You whimper, eating up each piece of newly exposed skin with your eyes, which drift down-

There’s a bulge in the front of his pants, and it makes your mouth water.

“Hyuck, you’re so big-” you reach out, and you’re almost surprised he doesn’t bat your hand away. He lets you touch him through his pants, throwing his head back to let out a moan that does wonders for your pussy.

“Probably the biggest you’ll ever have,” Hyuck breathes. “Dragon perk.”

His gaze finds you again, and he lets out something between a chuckle and a groan. “Fuck, Bunny- you have such tiny hands-”

“Anything compared to your huge dragon cock would look tiny,” you defend yourself, and it makes Hyuck laugh.

“I can’t believe-” his hips push forward as you trace him, “can’t believe we just kissed for the first time and now you’re going to let me fuck you. I guess the term ‘fucking like bunnies’ came from somewhere, huh?”

You can only whimper in response, too busy oggling his massive cock to think coherent sentences.

“Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you moan.

“Tell me you’re my good little bunny.”

“I’m your perfect little bunny.”

“Yeah, you are-” Hyuck’s hands find his belt. “Take off your dress. I wanna see you.”

“Can’t you take it off of me yourself?” you suggest, and the dragon’s motions stop.

He looks down at you. Then he’s on top of you, pressing you between his hot body and the mattress while his hand wraps around your throat. He applies just enough pressure to make your eyes widen, and he grins. “For a people pleasing little bunny, sometimes you can be a bit of a brat.”

“I just thought you’d want to unwrap your present.”

Hyuck lets out a deep groan, and then he’s kissing you again. His lips are desperate against your own now, and his tongue invades your mouth with newfound fervour.

You tangle your fingers in his pretty hair, and Hyuck grinds down against you, dragging the front of his pants across your panty covered core.

“Mmm-” you whimper. “Hyuck-”

“That’s it, pretty bunny, say my name,” he growls, pressing feverish kisses down to your throat again while he ruts his hips-

“Please, I need you so bad-” You’ve been needing him since that first day you met, and you’re only truly realizing it now. “I’m so wet-”

“Dirty bunny,” Hyuck’s lips continue downward, and he lifts up your dress, exposing your belly for his hot mouth. Then his fingers hook in your panties. “Ask nicely for me to eat you out.”

“Please, Hyuck, I’d be yours forever-”

“You’re already mine,” the Level Five growls, tearing your panties off your body in one rough tug that leaves you gasping. “Dragon’s covet pretty things,” he tells you as he settles down between your thighs, his breath teasing your pussy- “and you, my perfect little bunny, are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Hyuck-” you whimper desperately, pushing your hips up in the hope it will entice him-

His hands firmly hold you to the bed. “I’ve never needed anything more than I need you,” he presses a kiss to your inner thigh that has you crying out-

He’s so close- so close to giving you what you need-

“Please-”

Red eyes meet yours as he brings his mouth to your pussy, and a squeal of delight erupts out of you.

Your hands reach down to tangle in his hair, looking for an anchor, and to your surprise, Hyuck offers you his own hand, linking his fingers with yours and giving you a gentle squeeze even as he buries his tongue in your wet hole.

“You feel so good,” you praise him, and you��re rewarded by his lips wrapping around your clit.

More cries of pleasure escape you, and with one of his hands still holding you down, there’s nothing you can do but close your eyes and enjoy what he’s giving you.

“Oh my god-” your stomach is twisting into knots faster than you’d ever imagined it could, “I’m gonna cum-”

Hyuck pulls away from your pussy and lets go of your hand, causing you to whine loudly- only for one of his fingers to slip into you.

“Already?” he taunts. “Fuck, you’re so tight, bunny. Hasn’t anyone fucked you properly?”

“No,” you shake your head, “not properly, not like you-”

“You haven’t even had me yet,” he chuckles, and his breath on your pussy makes you twitch.

“I just know-” you insist. “Your so big, so good, gonna stretch me out so good-”

“Listen to you blabber, my cute little blabbering bunny…” He adds a second finger and you whimper loudly. “I guess you can cum.” His lips return to your clit, and the feeling of both his digits and his mouth has you seeing stars.

“Hyuck-” you gasp, body tensing on the precipice of euphoria-

Then it’s slamming into you, and try as you might to buck your hips, Hyuck holds you down through your high. His tongue flicks your clit while you nearly scream with pleasure.

Without his hand to grab onto, you’re left grasping at the sheets, but try as you might, nothing keeps you anchored to earth. You can feel your body ascending to something akin to heaven, and your mind goes completely blank except for the wonderful tingles that jitter through your form.

“That’s it, bunny,” Hyuck’s breath is hot when he pulls away from your clit, but his fingers continue inside your wet core, “look at my pretty girl cumming for me. You’re so perfect-”

“Hyuck-” you’re nearly crying now, on the cusp of beginning to shake from overstimulation-

The dragon lets up, and when he takes his fingers out of your pussy, the smell of you engulfs your senses.

You’re too tired to open your eyes just yet, but you hear Hyuck lick his fingers clean, and he groans. “You taste as good as you look, pretty bunny,” he tells you, “just like I always knew you would.”

If you had the energy, you might ask him how long he’s been thinking about doing this to you- but you can hardly find the words to speak as you attempt to catch your breath.

“Aw, is my bunny crying?” The bed dips as Hyuck settles his hips flush against your own again, an elbow pressing into the bed beside your head while his hand cups your cheek.

“No,” you whisper.

“Liar,” Hyuck chuckles. “Should I fuck you now? Would that make everything better, bunny?”

“Yes, but…” you take a breath, still recovering from the intensity of your orgasm, “you should know… if you ever hurt me, Mark will kick your ass.”

“Not you thinking of your brother right now.”

“I’m serious,” you swallow thickly. “You’ll have like, two bunnies, a bengal cat, a hamster, two dobermans- a whole hoard of people coming to kick your ass-”

“Oh, I’m so scared of a hoard of Level Ones and Threes,” Hyuck laughs, pressing a kiss to your throat. “I promise not to hurt you. Unless you ask me to.”

“Split me open.”

“You got it, bunny.” The dragon sits up again, and he removes both of your clothes faster than you can keep track of. “I tried to stretch you out with my fingers, but… well… it might not have helped much,” he tells you, and you open your eyes to watch him spit on his hand, lubing his cock up.

He’s big. Even bigger now that his pants are off, and part of you wonders how he’s even going to fit inside of you. However, you know he’ll make it fit.

“You ready?” he asks, laying over you again and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

You can feel his cock throbbing on your thigh, and another gush of wetness between your legs makes you nod enthusiastically. “Please-”

He wraps one hand around the base of his cock, guiding the head to your hole- you gasp at the feeling of the intrusion as he slowly pushes into you.

“Oh my god-” you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, eagerly seeking out his lips as some form of distraction-

You know it will feel good once he’s inside of you properly, once he starts to thrust-

“That’s it,” Hyuck groans against your mouth, “Good bunny-”

“You’re so big-”

“I know,” he assures you, “and you’re taking me so well-”

His praise definitely makes you relax, and he slips deeper and deeper into your core until his hips are flush with your own. You both let out groans of pleasure, and Hyuck breaks your kiss. “I’m gonna fuck you now,” he tells you. “Be my perfect little bunny and let me know when you’re going to cum.”

You love how certain he is that you’ll reach your high again. A few of your past lovers had missed the mark completely, but Hyuck doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who misses.

He certainly doesn’t miss your gspot, his cock dragging against it with each thrust-

You can feel your pussy squeezing him, can feel your toes curling with pleasure as he finds an increasingly rough pace.

“Fuck-” Hyuck groans, lacing his fingers with yours and pinning you to the bed while his lips press kisses along your throat. “You feel amazing-”

You’re pretty sure he’s the one who feels amazing- any hole would be tight around a cock like his, you’re just glad you get to be his hole tonight- and hopefully something more afterward.

“And listen to your pretty whimpers-” the dragon hybrid fucking you moans loudly. “You sound so fucking good for me, who’s my perfect bunny?”

“I am!”

“And who loves this big cock stretching out her tight fucking pussy?”

“I do!” You’re nearly crying again. “Hyuck, I’m gonna cum- I’m gonna cum so hard- please-”

“Hold it for me, bunny,” he gasps against your neck. “If you cum, I’ll cum, and I’m not quite done with you yet.”

You squeeze his fingers, focusing all your strength on holding off the orgasm that’s beginning to tingle up your toes-

“So tight, so warm, so good for me-” Hyuck groans again.

“Please-” you feel a tear slip down your cheek. “I can’t hold it- I need to cum- need to cum so badly- please, Hyuck-”

“Fuck, I love it when you beg-” The dragon fucks you even harder, and you know that there’s no way you’ll be able to hold off your orgasm now- “You can cum. Cum for me. Come on bunny, cum on this cock.”

“Hyuck!” His name feels like a prayer, tumbling our of your lips as your orgasm takes over your body. If you’d thought the first one had been heavenly euphoria, you don’t even know how to describe this high.

It’s pure ecstasy, all encompassing and white hot. It sends electric tingles of pleasure up and down your form, making you cry out, muscles tensing as literal contractions wrack your body-

“Fuck-” Hyuck lets out a low groan, and then he’s cumming inside of you, filling you up with everything he’s worth- there’s no fear of you getting pregnant, as cross species hybrids can’t mix, so you’re left to simply enjoy the feeling.

The sounds he makes are music to your ears too, and you swear you could listen to him cum all day long-

He works you through your high, squeezing your hands as his pace begins to slow. When you’re both done, he presses his mouth to yours, kissing you while you both gasp and struggle to catch your breaths.

“You’re so good-” he tells you. “So good for me, bunny-”

You’ve never felt this good in your entire life, and when Hyuck releases your hands, you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, holding him close. You can feel his heart thundering in his chest, and his smell engulfs you. It’s comforting in a way-

He might be a big scary Level Five dragon hybrid, but he’s your big scary Level Five dragon hybrid.

You feel safe with him, like you’ve never felt safe with anyone in your entire life.

“It’s cute,” Hyuck sighs, “what you said about your hoard of friends earlier.”

“Cute?” you echo, opening your eyes to blink up at your new lover.

“If it makes anyone feel safer about this situation, I could work on getting to know them better.”

You can’t believe he’s offering this, while still buried balls deep in your pussy. A laugh bubbles out of you, and you find yourself nodding. “I think I’d like that.”

Hyuck grins down at you, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose, and when he looks at you, there’s nothing but adoration in his pretty caramel-coloured eyes. “Anything for my Little Bunny.”

And you can tell that he means it.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I really liked making this au and the hybrid world that came out of it, although I will note that Dragon Hyuck was a self-indulgent fantasy - read the bear!Johnny spin-off here

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. “I can feel how wet you are through your panties, bunny,” Hyuck groans against your neck. “I didn’t know you were such a little whore for exhibitionism… letting me fuck you at your workplace. What a dirty girl you are.”

cw/ tw. exhibitionism/sex in her workplace, unprotected sex, mirror sex, dirty talk, praise, jealous/possessive hyuck, sexy dragon wings, big dragon dick Hyuck, fingering, multiple orgasms, begging, finger licking, mentions of being ‘full/filled’, choking, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 5.1k I teaser wc. 600

🌙 staring.Haechan x afab!reader

bonus

When you’d started seeing Hyuck, you’d thought you’d have the end of unwanted attention while working. Surely his outburst with the champagne bottle and the tiger hybrid was enough of a warning to others, and if not that, then his predatory scent marking you as taken should ward off other would-be suitors-

But nothing, as it seems, is ever enough to keep a Level Four away from a little bunny.

A particularly proud lion hybrid has been trying to capture your attention for over an hour, and you can feel Hyuck’s eyes burning into the back of your head from VIP. Yet, your dragon lover stays with his friends, and you wonder if he’s given the lion grace because the man has kept his hands to himself.

“I dont want another scene,” Doyoung says when you head to the bar to fill a drink order. His gaze is aimed towards VIP, and you think he must be in one of his staring matches with your boyfriend, they do this much too often.

“I’ll try not to make one then,” you promise, “but I can’t help it if the lion decides to test his luck.”

The raven looks at you with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Which is why I’m sending you to the keg room on an errand. The Guinness needs to be refilled, think you can handle that?”

While Jungwoo had shown you how the keg room in the basement worked when you first got hired, you’ve never been asked to do it yourself. You turn to look at your manager with confusion. “Aren’t the kegs really heavy?”

“Take Jeno with you,” comes his quick response. “I just need you off the floor for a bit. That lion who’s been flirting with you is getting drunk enough for me to cut him off. I’ll go settle his tab and when you come back up, he should be gone, if he knows what’s good for him.”

While Doyoung is quite thin and birdlike in appearance, he’s still a Level Three predator, and you sometimes forget that the raven can hold his own. He’s a manager for a reason, after all, and you respect when he makes decisions like this.

“I’ll go grab Jeno and get that keg fixed for you then,” you agree with a nod.

“Take your time.” Doyoung assesses the tray of drinks that his Persian hybrid bartender has just set in front of you. “I’ll get Jaemin to take these out for you while you’re away.”

With another quick head motion of agreement, you dart off to find Jeno.

The doberman is never that difficult to locate, and tonight you find him monitoring the steps to VIP. The club is packed on a Saturday night, and despite red ropes keeping unsuspecting partygoers away from Hyuck and his friends, the crowd has been encroaching on the sanctity of VIP for over an hour.

“Hey!” you say, raising your voice so your friend can hear you over the loud house music blasting through the speakers. Jeno leans in and you steady your hand on his shoulder so you can relay the information in his ear, “Doyoung wanted us to go deal with a keg!”

Jeno gives you a quick nod, and then he’s pushing through the swarm of people. Before you follow, your gaze shift up to VIP, and you notice Hyuck has stood from his table. His red, dragon eyes are fixed on you, and he looks to be on high alert. When you send him a smile, his shoulders relax ever so slightly, and then you’re turning to race after the doberman hybrid.

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satorusugurugurl · 5 days

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My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one my, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 2,055

Warning: Fluffy fluff! Happy endings 🥹💚

A/N: And with that, My Wedding Date is an Escort is complete! I am open to writing one shots for our fluffy couple if y’all have any requests! God this has been a journey thank you all so much for the love and support!! I hope you continue to enjoy my other series as well! 💚💚💚

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Epilogue:

Two Years Later.

Gojo stirred in bed, reaching for your side and finding it cold like every other morning. He knew where you were from the smell of cinnamon rolls baking downstairs. He fucking loved cinnamon rolls. Satoru walked out into your living room with a stretch and a yawn before strutting towards the stairs that led down to the bakery.

You stood there talking to one of your customers, handing them a bright pink box tied with a white ribbon. He stood at the top of the stairs, just watching you for the longest of times. You moved elegantly over the floor to the display case packaging and different pastries for your customers. Before heading into the back, one of your workers took over for you.

Seizing the opportunity, Satoru followed you through the metal swinging door into the back. You stood there, checking the contents inside the oven. When you had your back turned, he snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. The sudden contact had you jumping at first before you turned to look over your shoulder up at him.

“Good morning,” he said in a gruff voice.

“Mornin’ Toru.” Soft lips pressed lovingly against his cheek. “I made you an omelet. It’s in the microwave.”

“Fuuuck,” he happily sighed, “I love you so damn much.”

Turning to face him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your lips. “Mmm, I love you too, Toru.” Satoru kissed you back eagerly, his hands gripping your hips, pulling your flesh against him. “Ah, Toru~!” Giggles were music to his ears; he growled, wanting to do nothing more than toss your pastries to the ground and take you into the kitchen. “Satoru~ haaah,” You gasped as his lips hurriedly trailed down your neck. “We can't.”

“Yes, we can~” he growled hungrily, “come on, I'll be fast.”

For a second, Satoru could see your eyes searching for a place where you two could have a quickie. Just as you were pulling him to the very back, where the cooling racks would conceal you, the door to the front swung open, and Suguru walked in, duffle bag over his shoulder, backpack on his back. The three of you froze as Suguru glanced between you two, his face twisting into a look of disgust.

“Please tell me,” Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose. “you both weren't about to fuck back here.”

“W-What! N-No!” of course, you would be the first to deny his accusation, quickly shaking your head.

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, pouted, throwing his head back in dismay. “Such a cock block Suguru!” Both of his best friends turned to stare at him. The silence was palpable until Suguru groaned, his eyes landing on you, giving you the most disappointing look he could muster.

“Really?”

“S-Suguru, I can explain.”

“I should report your ass to the health department.” He teased, striding forward and smacking Satoru upside the head. “Stop corrupting my best friend, you horny blue-eyed freak.”

Satoru gasped dramatically, placing his hand over his chest. Faux hurt, painting his face as he furrowed his brows together. A look that didn’t stop Suguru from snatching a strawberry off the counter and popping it in his mouth. Not that it phased you as you walked back to the oven, pulling out a tray.

“I thought I was your best friend?!”

“Nah, I like your girlfriend more.” Suguru tossed a strawberry at you. “Even if she's a little freak, too.”

You placed the cookie tray on the counter, tossing an oven mitt back at Suguru. “Hey, I was minding my own business! Satoru’s the one that woke up and chose to be horny.” Satoru slowly smirked, nodding his head.

“Can't help it; seeing the cute pastry chef working in my bakery just does things for me.” Both you and Suguru turned to stare at him. “Wanted to bring you back here and give you an in-depth evaluation.”

“Gross.” Suguru chucked a strawberry at Satoru’s face.

“I didn't know you were my ‘boss’ last time I checked; You lived with me.” You put both hands on your hips, smirking as Satoru blinked.

“Live with you?” Satoru gaped, eyes turning towards a smirking Suguru. “Did I, or did I not invest in her shop?”

“Technically, he did.”

Satoru strode forward, cupping your cheek. “He just wants me for my pastries.” You teased, standing on your tiptoes and kissing him.

“That and your body.” he teased, kissing you back, growling against your lips.

“Oh my god, please stop. We have a train to catch.” Suguru grumbled, rolling his eyes at the groan from his best friend.

“Suguru’s right, baby; hurry and eat.”

Satoru grabbed the omelet from the microwave, pausing to look down at you. “Say~ you busy on Saturday?”

There’s a certain sparkle in your eyes, one that has Satoru head over heels. You tilt your head to the side, glancing up at the ceiling and thinking. “Hmm, I have a wedding to go to.” Satoru’s chest swells with excitement as he eats some of his food.

“Oh really?”

“Mhmm~!”

“Need a date?”

“Oh yeah, I totally need one.”

The adoration and love in your eyes mirrored his own. “Great, sounds like we got a plan.” He lovingly kissed you on the forehead. “Three days, sweetheart! Three days!” Satoru ran up the stairs, humming happily; three days to him would feel like three decades. Saturday, needed to hurry up and get here already!

Luckily for Satoru, three days flew by. His stomach fluttered as Suguru smoothed out his suit jacket. Suguru’s eyes focused on his best friend's neck, where he could see his racing pulse.

“You remember what you told me when you got back from Kyoto two years ago?”

“Uh, thanks for telling me I was a fucking idiot?” Satoru said before taking a deep breath.

Suguru laughed, shaking his head. “You said that which you're still welcome for.” The dark-haired man straightened his back before patting his best friend on the shoulder. “You told me you found the one. Then proceeded to ask me to be a witness at your wedding.” Blue eyes followed Suguru; he looked at himself in the mirror, fixing his jacket. “I honestly thought you were out of your mind back then.” Satoru was a second away from recording back with a snarky remark. “But, I’m happy to admit I was wrong, and you were right. She is the one meant for you.” without another word, Suguru pulled his best friend into a tight embrace.

“Suguru—”

“I’m happy for both of you.” Silence spreads between the two. “But if you hurt her, I will kill you myself.”

A knock at the door sent the two men flying back from each other. “Satoru.” Your mother peeked her head inside. “It’s time.” she has tears in her eyes as Satoru takes a final deep breath.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a wedding date to get to!”

Two years ago, he received a call from a girl desperate for a wedding date. The same girl had proceeded to steal his heart over the course of a week. In two years, the two of you had moved in together, shared meals with one another, and planned a future together. A future that had come true thus far.

You owned your bakery, and Satoru helped manage it with you, being your number one customer and investor. The two of you happily lived in the loft above the shop, furnished to make it your home. Everything you both wanted had come true. Today, you both will finalize the plans that you had made two years prior.

Satoru stood in the gardens of your family's inn, decorated with vibrant flowers. He watched as your closest friends walked down the aisle one after another in pairs, but he honestly didn't care about them. All that mattered to him was seeing you.

His wish was granted as the official told the guest in front of him to stand. His eyes met yours down the aisle, his breath catching in his throat at your breathtaking appearance. Your wedding gown was elegant and suited you perfectly. Showing off your figure, he loved it so remarkably much. Your face was visible behind the veil, and your eyes never left his as your father led you down the aisle toward him.

Satoru felt his eyes burning as tears streamed down his cheeks. How was it possible for you to look even more stunning than you already did? You are like a goddess compared to him.

Suguru gently pats his shoulder, grinning as his best friend wipes uselessly at his eyes. He finally regained some form of composure once you’re standing before him, taking his hand in your own. His heart is thundering as he pulls you in and turns to the official with the biggest smile. He had told your mother two years ago that the next wedding they hosted at the inn would be yours.

And he had been faithful to his words.

The ceremony was sweet and quick; you exchanged your vows and beamed at the official. “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride!” Satoru threw your veil back, cupped your face, and kissed you as if the word was ending.

The crowd cheered and clapped as you both held hands, running up the aisle and back into the gardens. The second you were away from peering eyes, Satoru kissed you again, and again, and again until pulling away with a happy sigh. You felt lighter than air as his cerulean eyes roamed over your face.

“I think that was the best wedding date I’ve ever been on.” You proudly announced as he intertwined your fingers.

“Is that so, Mr. Gojo?” Your husband perks up, eyes darting down at you with sparkles in them.

“Why yes, Mrs. Gojo, it was.” You giggle at the use of your new last name. “Ooh, someone likes that new name~!!”

You shake your head, grinning softly. “No, I don't like it.” For a moment, you think Satoru is about to die of shock. “I love it!”

Satoru breathed a sigh of relief before cupping your face in his hands and kissing you as passionately as he could. With wide eyes, you moan into the kiss as he pushes the toy back against the wall of the inn. One hand grabs your hip, and the other remains on your face. You melt against him as he pulls back, your hot, desperate breath mingling together before he squeezes your hip, meeting your lips again, this time with a gentler kiss.

“And I love you. I hope you got enough sleep in the last two years, because I plan on showing you how much I love you on our honeymoon.”

“Oh my god, Toru~!” A squeal of pure joy rocks through you as he lifts you up carrying you across the gardens towards the photographers.

“Hey~ save that for the honeymoon suite baby~!” Your giggled as you both took the steps towards you very long and happy marriage. A marriage that all started with a wedding date.

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yearning-for-autumn · 4 months

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A Night At The Opera

Word Count: 1,579

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Smut, this is just smut really, daddy kink, public sex

A/N: This is based on a writing prompt I found a while back and have now lost, the prompt was "Are you hard? Here?" If anyone knows where this is from I would be so grateful, i'm going to go digging for it so I can tag the creator.

Feyre was the only one among all of you who truly enjoyed the opera’s in Velaris. Yet, you banded together every now and then to humour her, the joy and wonder on her face worth every second of confusion at what was supposed to be happening on stage.

Tonight it seemed to be a harrowing love story between a Half-Fae male and a High Fae princess, though the warbling chorus singing in a language long forgotten wasn’t really translating.

Rhys was slowly drifting off to sleep, his head resting on Feyre’s shoulder and his violet eyes drooping shut. A low murmur came from where Cassian and Nesta sat, with Nesta flicking through the program and frowning as they tried to decipher the plot. And Azriel, sitting beside you, was every so often shifting his weight from on leg to the other, subtly crossing them and keeping his hands clasped in his lap.

You furrowed your brow. “Az, what’s wrong?” You whispered, “You’re acting really restless tonight.”

He hummed in response, not answering your question. You leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “We can leave if you don’t like it, honey. I’m sure Feyre won’t mind.” You said quietly, willing to abandon the Opera if it meant getting to the bottom of your mates strange behaviour. He grimaced.

“She will,” He said, turning his head to speak quietly into your ear, “I’m fine, just keep watching.” His deep voice sent shivers through you, and you adjusted your position in your seat. Rhysand had you all seated in the royal box, allowing for ample room. Frowning, you sigh “It’s not that interesting.” You were now fully ignoring the commotion on stage. “I’d rather know what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.” He said through gritted teeth, “I’m fine. Can you please just sit back in your chair.”

You moved away from him with a huff, hurt. You subtly sniffed yourself, wondering if there was something wrong with the way you smelled. Was it your breath? You breathed into your hand, but all you could smell is the mint of your toothpaste. It was impossible to hide anything from Az, and with a roll of his eyes, he leaned closer to you over the armrest of the theatre chairs.

“Baby, you smell lovely, and you look lovely.” He assured you, “I’m just a bit uncomfortable. The chair’s too hard.”

“Rhys paid for the comfy seats.” You say, even more confused now. “Mine’s really cosy, do you want to switch?” You were becoming increasingly concerned. Azriel wasn’t usually one to complain, and he was definitely acting strange. Your mind raced with theory after theory, overthinking the things he had said until he put his face in one hand in frustration, pulling it away from where it had been resting on his upper thigh. As he lifted it, you saw what it had conveniently been hiding. Your eyes flickered up to his in disbelief.

“Are you hard? Here?” You asked incredulously, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. Azriel groaned and looked up at you, ashamed.

“I’ve been hard since I saw you come down the stairs baby. You look so hot.” His tone bordered on whiny, and you bit back a laugh.

“We should definitely go.” You said, your mind drifting to images of Azriel winnowing you back to his apartment, pressing you sensually against the wall, plush lips finding the hollow of your neck and--

“Baby stop. Feyre will be so upset if we leave now.” His low voice startled you out of your fantasizing. You let out a small growl of frustration.

“She’s not even looking.” You argued.

“Didn’t Rhys get hard in the Birchin one time?”

“We’ll have to walk past Cass and Nesta. They won’t let me live it down.” Was his second excuse. You wrinkled your nose.

“Yes. And it’s prime teasing material. I don’t want to be beaten at my own game, baby.” He retorted. You sighed, sensing he wasn’t going to give in easily, despite his predicament. It was surprising he’d stayed at attention this whole time, it seemed you weren’t the only one lost in your fantasies tonight. A small smile grew on your face as you turned slowly to look at him. You trailed a manicured hand down his thigh, delighting in the fluttering of the muscle underneath.

“Then there’s only one way to fix this, honey.” You said, voice low and teasing. Azriel’s eyes flickered up to you in surprise.

“What are you doing, princess?” And fuck if that wasn’t his husky bedroom voice that turned your core molten. You bit your lip, and your hands found the large bulge in his dress pants, squeezing lightly.

The performers on stage had begun a crooning number, the ridiculous costumes reflecting the fae-lights off every surface. Your hand started to stroke up and down his clothed shaft, feeling its thick length throb and pulse with every movement. It was a teasing pace, barely enough for Azriel to feel the warmth of your grip. Positioning yourself, you leant in close, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to the column of his neck.

“Playing.” You whispered. He let out a shuddering breath.

“Princess,” His voice was a warning growl, “If you want to play, then you had better play properly.”

You couldn’t fight the shiver that ran down your spine.

“I can’t take you out here, Daddy,” You bit your lip as you pulled out the pet-name sure to make his resolve weaken, “people will see.”

“Fuck.” He ground out, “I need more than what you’re giving me, love. Just...go a bit harder.”

You giggled, trying to hush your voice.

“Are you begging me?” You teased. He snarled, nipping your earlobe, his hot breath searing your sensitive skin.

“Remember, Kitten. I can easily take you home and punish you after this.” Cauldron, your pussy was dripping. Azriel’s tongue licked a burning stripe up your neck, your pulse fluttering under your skin. You whimpered.

“Sorry Daddy.” You soothed with a pout. Azriel gave you a small smile and turned to kiss you properly, his tongue swirling around yours, dominating your mouth easily. Your eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy. Kissing Azriel was your strongest vice. It was so easy to get lost in him. He pulled back, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention your way, Rhys and Feyre were a row in front, but Nesta and Cassian were only a few chairs down from you, and though there was plenty of space between your chairs, they felt tantalisingly close.

You resumed your loving attention to his cock, still rock hard under your touch. From Azriel’s gritted teeth it was clearly becoming painful. Your hand sped up, squeezing hard at the tip to replace your usual twist that was impossible with the frankly offensive layer of clothing between your skin and his. You wanted to feel him, the heat of it, the taste. When you got home you swore you were going to suck him dry.

“Fuck, fuck. You’re so good baby. Such a good girl for me.”

“Is it good, Daddy?” You ask, your feigned innocence only turning him on more. You felt his cock give a painful throb beneath your touch and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Mhm, lower your hand a bit, yeah, that’s it, yeah.” He groaned as you trailed your hand down and squeezed his balls roughly. You grinned. Azriel loved having his balls played with. You alternated between squeezing and stroking, ocassionally pressing down hard with the heel of your palm. This earned you a whimper, causing anther gush of slick between your legs.

“Baby, Kitten, fuck I’m done for if you keep that up.” He groaned through gritted teeth, the only time in his life where he struggled to keep quiet. You giggled, not letting up until he was thoroughly satisfied.

“Cum for me, Azriel.” You demanded, licking the shell of his ear.

Azriel came with a shuddering gasp and a wet feeling against your palm. You rubbed him through it, milking him dry as his pants grew sodden. Around you, the opera had reached it’s final chorus, Azriel breathing hard as you lay your head on his shoulder. You felt a little self-conscious now it was all said and done, and your gaze darted about to check no one was watching.

“I can’t believe we just did that.”

Azriel huffed a laugh, “I’ll treat you when we get home, love.” He said, trailing promising kisses down your neck. You pushed him away gently with a soft laugh.

“Will you eat my pussy, Daddy?” You asked teasingly.

“If you ask nicely.” He said, though you both knew it took no encouragement to get him on his knees, licking you to completion.

You glanced around at your friends. Rhys was now fully asleep on Feyre’s shoulder and Cassian was fiddling with Nesta’s hair, who was staring at the stage in puzzlement. None of them seemed to have noticed your activities.

As you left the theatre, Azriel’s shadows swirled around his waist, conveniently covering the damp stain of his cum. He grimaced as he walked with the cooling mess against his now soft dick. Cassian bumped your shoulder as he walked past, and he grabbed your hand to pull you closer to him.

“You do know we were sitting right next to you, Kitten.” You flushed scarlet, and Cassian’s booming laughter drowned out any of Feyre’s excited chatter about how good the opera had been. If only the rest of you had been watching.

A/N: This is my first ACOTAR fanfic ever! Feedback is appreciated but please be nice, i'm sensitive. I hope you liked it!

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 10 months

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Studious V (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

Aemond reads your notes, and you both finally come clean. After he introduces you to his best friend, you invite him back to your chambers.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: OOH BOY ITS TIME! We got tiddy suckin', we got fingering (f receiving), we got oral sex (f receiving), and we got p in v sex (finally), and of course, Aegon!

Author's Note: Bone apple teeth, y'all

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here - Read Part III Here - Read Part IV Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious V

Only a few minutes later, you sat across from Aemond at the small dining table in his chambers – obviously only ever intended for one. He had to drag one of the chairs by the hearth across the room just so you could sit with him. For he had insisted you stay while he read your notes, assuring you that it would not take long.

“I read very quickly,” he explained. “I have to, if I hope to read everything I want to.”

Now, you sat silently across from him as you watched him read. He held your diary in his right hand while his left held open his own where it rested on the table. While reading, he would often look between the two, cross-referencing what you had written about with his original entries.

It was quite amusing, being able to watch his reactions. Subdued as they were, you still caught him, on various occasions, both smiling and frowning. He even blushed once! You smiled as you recalled him doing the same to you – watching your face as you read in the library. Perhaps you were more similar than you had once thought.

For a long while, Aemond said nothing. He hardly even looked at you – only glancing up a few times and shying away when he noticed you looking back.

Until once, he did not look away. Though he did blush quite deeply.

“I apologise,” he whispered, “I did not realise how… detailed I was in some instances. You should not have had to read such depravity. Please, forgive me.”

So, he reached the library entry. And you had not written anything in response – a stark difference from every other entry. It was no wonder that he thought you offended. But you were most certainly not offended, and you had heard enough apologies from him to last you the rest of your lifetimes.

You reached across the table – hardly difficult, as it was so small – and brushed your fingers against his. The urge to fully take his hand was strong, but you did not want to push too far before the two of you had settled everything.

“There is no need to apologise,” you said, your first words since you gave him the diaries. “It is perfectly natural for a man to… think about his wife in such a way. Didn’t Septon Eustace tell you that so long as we were married, lust is not a sin?”

Aemond smiled a little at that, but his brow was still furrowed in concern, as if he did not believe you entirely.

“I actually –” you began, laughing a little as you spoke to relieve the tension. “I actually found it quite… interesting.”

“Oh!” Aemond’s mouth fell open, and his eye widened in the same expression that had once made you think he looked like a freshly caught fish. This time was perhaps even more satisfying than the first, as a flush quickly spread across his face and climbed all the way to his ears, until he was as red as his family crest.

“I… um, I am glad,” Aemond’s statement sounded curiously more like a question as his eye darted from you to the table to the diaries. “I thought that… I suppose… I was just… I still – I am still sorry.”

And with that, he turned back to diaries.

Judging by the position of the sun – which you were never very good at, so your estimations were far from precise – it took less than an hour for Aemond to finish reading. You had passed nearly all the time by surveying his rooms.

His rooms were immaculate, which was no surprise. Everything spotless and precisely arranged. Each tapestry, of which there were few, was hung perfectly. The vases on a table near the hearth were spaced so evenly that you could not imagine how it could have been without a measuring stick. And the books on the many bookshelves were well organised.

But as well as it was kept, it did not feel like Aemond. The tapestries were finely made, but the subjects – one hunting scene, one depiction of the Red Keep, one of the Seven, and one of a dragon that did not look like any of the ones you had heard described – were very standard. The vases were well crafted, but they, too, were plain. Two in varying shades of brown, one brass, and one in a simple pattern of brass and black. Even the bookshelves seemed impersonal. They were filled to the brim with leather and linen tomes, each as pristine as they must have been when they were first bound.

There were no little trinkets, personal items, or anything else that would identify Aemond as the occupant. If not for its position at the heart of the Holdfast or the fact that you could see Aemond’s sword and dagger leaning against a wardrobe in what must be the bedroom, you would think these were guest quarters.

How was he content with living in such an impersonal space?

You had filled the walls of your rooms until you could hardly see the stone, cluttered your tables with crafting supplies and reminders of your home and family, and stuffed so many of the small items you had collected over your lifetime in your shelves that there was hardly room for books. And while Aemond had been fascinated by the decoration within your rooms, he had still chosen not to make his own a home.

Perhaps you could help him fix that.

But before you could start considering how to do so, you looked back to him and immediately became mesmerised. His brow was furrowed in concentration, his eye snapping between the two diaries with dizzying speed, and his lips slightly pursed. It almost seemed as though he was studying rather than simply reading.

He cared about this – very much so. He was almost… desperate.

Did he still think you would ask to be separated from him? After you had read his diary, as he asked? After you returned to him and offered your own? After you had assured him you were not repulsed by what he had written?

Had you really been so cold to him that he could still believe you would run away?

A chill settled over you at the possibility. Perhaps several days ago, you may have accepted his offer to return to your home. Now, the thought of leaving him made you almost nauseous, though you were not entirely sure why. You wrapped your arms around yourself and cast your gaze down to the table surface.

“I’ve finished,” Aemond said merely a moment later. You looked up to see him setting your diary down next to his, then turning the pages of each back to the beginning of your shared story.

You sat up straighter in your chair, first placing your clasped hands on the table, then in your lap, then unclasping them so you could bunch the skirts of your dress in your hands – both to try and calm your nerves and soak up the moisture that had begun to form the moment Aemond spoke again. After you gave him a short nod, he began.

He laid his clasped hands atop the diaries, then separated them to grip the edges of the table on either side of the journals, then finally deciding to keep one hand on his diary while the other picked up his quill pen, which he began to fiddle with restlessly.

“I, um… I should like to start by thanking you for reading this,” he said, his voice less sure than you were used to. He did not meet your gaze, instead looking straight down at the books before him. “And I wish to apologise – again. First, for being so incompetent that this was the only way I could express my feelings, and secondly, for the admittedly humiliating things you read.”

“Aemond,” you interrupted before he could continue. When he looked at you in near panic, you scoffed and shook your head slightly. “If you apologise to me again, I might scream.”

He looked shocked by your words, then nodded gravely. “I did not realise how often I was doing so. I ap… shit, no.” He shut his eye and heaved a great sigh. “I will endeavour to do so less in the future, though I cannot promise I will not have to, on occasion.” The corner of his mouth quirked in the shadow of a smile as he winced slightly. “We both know how often I have cause to.”

“That is acceptable,” you whispered, “thank you.”

Both of you smiled at each other, your gazes locked. The moment lingering a bit longer than it would have with a stranger or even a friend. Then Aemond turned back to the diaries and frowned.

“I don’t quite know…” he trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “Forgive me, but my first reply to your notes was to be an apology for the careless and mean-spirited remarks I made about the merits of embroidery. I don’t know what to say if I am forbidden to apologise.”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. Yet it pleased you greatly that he was taking your request that he stop apologising so seriously.

Aemond did not wait for you to give him an answer, speaking with both urgency and sincerity. “It was thoughtless of me to write what I did. I was exhausted by the day and unhappy with how my grandsire chose to conduct my betrothal and marriage. And admittedly, I know little about the craft, and therefore underestimated it.”

“I am touched by your words,” you whispered, flustered by the intensity with which he regarded you, as if whatever you said next held the power to either destroy him or build him higher. “Perhaps, instead of apologising, you could tell me how you intend to make amends?”

“Of course,” his face lit up when he realised you were not upset with him. “I… I will learn more about embroidery so that I may truly appreciate it. Could… would you be willing to teach me?”

Based on the moment of panic that you saw come over him, you knew your shock at the request was rather poorly concealed. Bashfully, Aemond looked away. “After seeing the beautiful things that you have created – or I assume you have, as they were in your rooms, and depicted your home and interests – I truly wish to understand how they are made.”

Gods, he was serious. He truly wanted you to teach him how to create embroidery! The very idea was so amusing you could not hide your smile. “That is a wonderful solution, Aemond,” you said with all the reassurance you could muster. “I look forward to seeing what beautiful things you will make.”

“Oh, I am certain that compared to you… I mean, your own works, my attempts will seem quite poor. Laughable, even.”

“Well, I have had many years of practice,” you replied, “and a true love of the craft. It gives me an advantage over you. Although having seen you fight, I believe you have great potential as an embroiderer.”

Aemond’s head tilted slightly. “I don’t understand how the two skills correlate.”

“You fight with precision,” you explained, feeling yourself flush at the memory of him in the training yard. “Your movements are controlled and exact. The same skills are required in embroidery.”

“Then perhaps learning embroidery will further improve my fighting skills,” he said, almost jokingly. But any hint of a smile faded quickly, and he ducked his head, looking up at you as he continued. “I… I would like it if you could continue to come and watch me. When I practice. Not every day if you don’t want to, but every few days? Only if it would interest you, of course.”

“It would interest me very much!” you said, probably too quickly. But you had thought about Aemond wielding his sword so many times in the days since you actually saw him, and you were eager to see it again – and more of it. Up close, preferably.

He blushed again, though he reined it in much faster this time and resumed his cool, almost bureaucratic demeanour. “As for your list of books – some I have read, some I have heard of, and others I know nothing about. I would like to sit down with you and discuss them all. We could do that now, if you’d like?”

“I appreciate the thought, but today, I think we have more important things to discuss?” Indeed, you hadn’t anticipated this much discussion. You hadn’t even thought he would want you to remain with him while he read. But here you sat, not in your own rooms, in a carriage on your way home, or – as you had half-hoped for – in a bed.

Every moment you spent with Aemond was another agonising moment you spent not knowing what would happen between you. You were so eager for an answer – a conclusion.

But it was only fair that Aemond be allowed to respond to your comments and questions, so you bit your lip and prepared for more. After all, your husband was quite thorough. That much was clear from his research.

“Indeed we do,” he said as he flipped over a page of his diary. “I would be more than happy to take you to the Grand Sept. The family attend service there instead of the Royal Sept at least once per moon turn, but we can certainly go sooner if you prefer. It wouldn’t have to be for a service. We could just… go.”

“Choose a day,” you said, “and I will be with you.”

“I can’t wait for you to see it,” Aemond said with a smile. “It is truly…”

“Grand?” you offered.

“Yes, it has been named well,” his smile grew wider. “I am beginning to think that I, too, need to create a list of all the times you’ve made me laugh.”

You cocked your head, perplexed. “But… you didn’t laugh.”

“Oh, um…” Aemond looked away and grimaced, tapping his pen against his diary several times. “I don’t, often, laugh. Not aloud, at least.” After a deep inhale, he faced you again. “I assure you though, I felt like laughing! But I will try to do so in future, so it will be easier to know when I am amused.”

“No, Aemond,” you chided softly. “I don’t want you to change yourself for me. Now that I know what you look like when you ‘feel like laughing,” I will be able to recognise it. And, based on how extensive my list was, I believe I will laugh aloud enough for the both of us.”

He flipped to the page where you had made your list – throughout reading his diary, you would often return and add onto it, until it took up most of the page. He stared at it for a long moment, running his fingers over the words as if he could feel them. “I am immensely glad to have made you laugh, for there is nothing I desire more than to see you happy.”

Heat spread over every inch of your skin as you flushed, both from his words and what you were about to say. “There is ‘nothing you desire more?’” You bit your lip as you pointed to his diary. “Some of your later entries suggest otherwise.”

Aemond��s flush quickly grew to match your own. “I… there are things I desire nearly as much, but your happiness remains the greatest of them all.”

You both stayed there for a long moment, blushing and smiling at each other. All the while, you willed your racing heart to calm and your burning skin to cool. But beneath Aemond’s gaze, there was no hope for either. He looked at you with not only a lustful hunger but with admiration, longing, and a kind of reverence that made you at once bashful and confident.

If you stayed that way for much longer, you felt as though you would combust.

“I believe you skipped ahead a few entries,” you said. Even the whisper sounded like a shout in the silence that had descended upon you.

“Indeed I have,” he half-laughed, returning the diary to where he had left off. “My ap… I will begin again in the proper place. Please, inform me if I stray again?”

“I will,” you assured, nearly laughing yourself.

His eye lingered on you for a moment before he actually began again. “I wish I had danced with you all night,” he said, his smile fading as he looked at your next note morosely. “It had been my plan, actually. But as you read, I feared that if I remained so close to you, looking as radiant as you did, I would have done something untoward and inappropriate. Worse, I feared doing something you would not want.”

He would not meet your eye, but still, you spoke. “I admit, had you started ravishing me on the dancefloor, I likely would have reacted poorly,” you said with sombre humour. Aemond didn’t acknowledge it. “But I wanted to dance with you, talk to you. To begin to understand the man with whom I would spend the rest of my life.”

Aemond pursed his lips, his lone eye blinking furiously.

“If you had kissed me then,” you continued, though you doubted it was a good idea, “I would have welcomed it.”

You swore you saw a flash of tears in his eye before hanging his head so low his face was hidden. “I swear to you that, from this moment on, I will dance with you whenever you want,” Aemond whispered, his voice low and crackling with emotion, “wherever we are, and whether we have music to accompany us or simply the rhythm of our own hearts.”

He raised his head to face you, his eye flicking back to the diary once before again fixing on you. “I also swear that you will never again fall asleep without my first wishing you goodnight. Even if we are parted and far from each other, I shall wish it upon the wind and pray that it carries my words to you.”

The vows settled on your heart with more weight and meaning than those he had sworn to you in the Sept. For these were not of words written by a Septon long ago and repeated by countless men and women in their own marriages. These vows were not shared – they were only for you.

It would only be proper for you to swear your own vows in return, but you did not know what to swear. Despite having read his diary, you did not know him so well as he knew you. Guilt threatened to overwhelm you, and you could only say a quiet thanks before signalling for him to continue.

You were silent for a while, offering only small smiles and nods as Aemond promised to not damage his finely made diary any further, told you that your wedding presents were being catalogued in the Royal Vault and would be returned to you soon, and that he had confirmed with Lord Jasper that Coryanne Wylde – his ancestor – was indeed the author of ‘A Caution for Young Girls.”

With each of his explanations, you only gave him half your focus, as the other half was occupied trying to figure out what you could swear to him. Perhaps that you would only ever wear nightclothes he found attractive?

For a moment, you were sure he could read your mind, as the moment after the thought came to you, he turned a page and began, “Your robe – ”

“What about it?” you asked, louder and more defensively than you originally intended.

Aemond stared at you, shocked by the sudden outburst. “I was going to say that I do not, in fact, hate it, I swear.”

“Oh,” you said, sinking slightly into your chair as your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“It is a very fine robe, well made and quite beautiful,” he continued, graciously ignoring your current state. “It just… it is so large that I feel as though you are hiding, and I don’t ever want you to hide from me. Or even feel like you must. I never meant to offend something you hold so dear.”

“Oh,” you said again. After correcting your posture to something decidedly more ladylike, you took a deep breath and gave an explanation of your own. “I wasn’t hiding, I promise. But that robe is one of the few things that makes me feel…” you struggled to find the right word. “Safe.”

Aemond’s face blanched, and while his eye hardened, his brow raised in concern. “The Red Keep – and the Holdfast especially – is the safest place in the realm, perhaps the world. No harm will come to you, I swear. I will – ”

You held up a hand to stop him, and despite his furore, he quieted at your command. “That’s not what I mean by ‘safe,’ Aemond.”

“Then I am afraid I don’t understand.”

With a sigh, you looked up at the ceiling, searching for a way to explain the complex feeling. “I don’t mean ‘safe’ in a physical way. I don’t fear that I will be harmed or killed. I mean safe in a… in my heart. Perhaps my soul too.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, but he said nothing, so you continued. “Since my family has left, I have felt very alone – painfully so. I hardly know anyone here, nor do they know me.” At that, your husband seemed ready to protest, but you did not let him. “From reading your diary, I do believe you know me. Better than I would have ever thought in the short time we have known each other. But even then, I have seen you so little, and spoken to you even less.”

He nodded, “Another failing I must atone for.”

“Well, I suppose I could have approached you myself. But after our wedding night…” Aemond flinched at the reminder but remained silent. “I was confused. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t quite that. And I know some of it is my fault! Please don’t blame yourself entirely. Still, you never spoke to me, not at court or at dinners. You never asked to see me or even escort me back to my rooms after dinner. I thought I had disappointed you, but I could not summon the courage to ask you how.”

“I never meant to abandon you,” Aemond murmured, “I just didn’t want to frighten you further. I was trying to – ”

“I know,” you smiled, inclining your head toward the diaries. “I understand now. But my understanding does not mean that I do not wish we had both made different choices.”

“As you said in your apology,” he said, almost to himself. Silence fell over you as he turned the page and traced his finger over your words again. “The robe is your reminder of home, where you are safe and loved, not scared and dreading the life ahead of you.”

“Yes.”

“And in my idiocy, I took that from you.”

“It was a shared idiocy,” you mused, grateful when Aemond’s tense shoulders dropped at your forgiving tone. “You were very kind to me that day, and yet I took the first opportunity to assume the worst of you.”

“I am afraid I gave you ample cause to assume the worst of me.”

“Maybe so, but I won’t do it anymore,” you felt meek saying the words, like a child promising their parents to stop misbehaving.

But then Aemond smiled, his cheeks tinged with colour again, and under his warm gaze, you felt… safe. “And I will not give you any more cause to.”

You smiled back, holding a girlish giggle, the origin of which was unknown to you.

“That reminds me,” Aemond said with a wicked grin. He tapped your open diary once, twice. “I like it when you scrunch your nose because of the delicious contradiction. Such an unpleasant expression upon the loveliest of faces.”

You pouted, then immediately realised your mistake when his grin grew wider and moved to cover your now-scrunched nose with your hands. Aemond only laughed at your embarrassment. “I cannot decide whether that is a compliment or not,” you said, causing another round of laughter.

“I assure you, it is meant entirely as a compliment,” he assured, still coming down from his amusement. He took a deep breath and then went still. “None could ever insult your appearance, for they could find no faults. And if they did… I would assure they were properly punished.”

Your flush was so great you could feel its heat when you dropped your head into your hands. “I suppose I should ask, how fares the painter who made my miniature?”

Another grin, this one positively lupine. “He has not been harmed, but I doubt he will ever again be commissioned by the noble families. If he does not flee across the Narrow Sea, he will be fortunate to find any amongst the smallfolk who can pay him more than a silver piece for his work..”

Such a severe punishment, just for a painting that had not shown your beauty? You didn’t know whether to be horrified or flattered. Or impressed that he held such influence. Judging by the fluttering feeling that filled your chest, you knew you were flattered more than anything. And the look on Aemond’s face, a look of pure confidence and power, stirred such powerful desire within you that you had to grip the arms of your chair to stop yourself from planting yourself on his lap – precisely as he had written about.

Your hands remained clutched to the chair as Aemond told you that he would be more than happy to study Valyrian history with you, and that he did not pick all the dog roses from the garden, for those he left were promptly collected by the Maesters. He expressed his desire to visit your home, but with the caveat that you would protect him from your brothers. And he assured you that he would not take a vow of silence so that you could hear his voice whenever you wanted.

Finally, he came to your last reply.

He read it again, silently, and slower than you would have liked. Then, he faced you but kept his eye focused on the wall past your shoulder. “I do not know if this is correct,” he said, almost bashfully. “But, I find myself… glad? That you missed me. That you worried for me. I did not know you cared for me that much, or that you cared for me at all.”

“Honestly? Neither did I. Not until that night.” You reached across the table – a short distance which yet felt like the length of the world – and took Aemond’s hand. He gasped, and his hand twitched, but then he sighed in relief. It was almost like the sound he had made when he released his seed within you. The very thought of it made you tighten your grip. “But I do care about you, Aemond... husband.”

To what extent you did not know. But you were very close to finding out.

You did not know how long you stayed there, holding hands and saying nothing. Minutes, perhaps. Or hours. In either case, the sun was still up when Aemond suddenly dropped your hand and stood.

“There is… there is something else I should show you,” he said, stumbling over his words as he had the first few times he actually spoke to you. “If you truly want to know me.”

Though you felt a tinge of apprehension at his vague words and that you could not imagine what else there was for him to show you after giving you his diary. Still, you nodded. “I do – want to know you.”

He stood, his back rigid as he extended a hand toward you. “Come, I will call a wheelhouse to take us.”

“A wheelhouse? Where are we going?”

“To the edge of the Kingswood.” At the look of confusion on your face, he clarified, “It is where Vhagar resides.”

“Vhagar? Your dragon?” You took his hand and let him pull you up, your shock at his request momentarily replaced by the strength you felt in the motion – the same strength that had enraptured you in the training yard.

“Well, she is not my dragon,” he clarified. “It doesn’t work like that. There is no ownership one way or the other. It’s more like… a partnership. I am her rider, and she is my mount.”

It took you a moment to collect your thoughts as Aemond began to lead you – still holding your hand – out of his rooms. He whispered briefly to the first guard you saw, who immediately ran toward the stables. When you were alone, he turned to you. “It… might be cool. Would you like to fetch a cloak from your rooms?”

You did, and you didn’t. While you didn’t want to endure the cold, you couldn’t help but think about what would happen if you felt cold and didn’t have a cloak. Would Aemond offer you his or perhaps invite you to share his?

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly. “I would like that.”

He smiled and led you back to your rooms. So far from his own, yet with him leading you, the distance seemed to pass far faster than when you ran to him earlier that day.

Aemond stopped when you came to your door, lingering for a moment. “Would you… should I come in?” He turned to you with pleading eyes that you could tell he was trying to conceal. “I can remain outside if you wish it.”

He moved to drop your hand, but you held firm. “I would like you to come inside,” you said. “You know better than I what I will need, so I should like your assistance in selecting a cloak.”

Aemond gave you his fish look again, utterly dumbfounded. As if going into your dressing room was somehow more intimate than him fucking you. Fortunately, he regained his composure quickly and bowed his head. “Of course, whatever you wish.”

He opened the door and allowed you to lead him inside, past the couch where he had given you flowers, past the bedchamber where you had lain together, and into your dressing room. When you turned back to him, he was looking around as if he were just led into a room full of grand tapestries and works of art rather than clothes and shoes.

“What is it, Aemond?” you asked, suddenly worried that he may have seen something that offended him.

“It is just…” he laughed lightly before looking back to you, “I didn’t think anyone could actually fill their dressing room – especially not one this large.”

Though he smiled, you were yet filled with worry. “I promise I am not vain!” you pled, holding his hand to your chest. “My mother believes that a lady should always… and since I was to marry a prince, she – ”

You were silenced when Aemond pressed a kiss to your joined hands. “You have married a prince, and he does not think you vain, I swear. Actually, he is rather excited to see how beautiful you look in each and every item here.”

For a moment, you strongly considered leading him into the bedroom and leaving Vhagar for another day. But you had other plans for how you wanted that reunion to go. So, you reluctantly dropped his hand and pointed to the room’s far corner. “The cloaks are over there.”

Being a royal bride and one of only two daughters of a wealthy house meant that your trousseau was extraordinary. As such, you had more than a dozen cloaks, at least one for every colour of the rainbow.

Aemond went first to a black cloak – your warmest. While its wool was sparsely decorated, it was lined with the exquisite striped fur of a shadowcat. But after running his fingers once through the fur, Aemond pushed it aside.

He went next to a red cloak, intricately embroidered with gold and black dragonscale patterns (although the designs were somewhat abstract). It had been specially made when the match was announced, to honour the colours and sigil of your new house. But it, too, was rejected.

The green cloak – the one of dark emerald, not the light sage – was considered as well, longer than the other two. It was made from rich velvet and decorated with pearls. But Aemond let it behind, as well.

After quickly sorting through the next seven, he, at last, stopped to examine another. This one was made from a gentle pink jacquard, the pattern difficult to spot from a distance but absolutely lovely when near. The inside was lined with a light layer of undyed wool, and the edges with a thin strip of sable fur.

It was your favourite.

And it was the one Aemond chose.

“Wear this one,” he whispered as he brought it to you, holding it as though it was the most precious thing he’d ever held. “It suits you… very well.”

The flush on his cheeks gave you a rush of confidence, enough that you lifted your hair and turned around. Looking at Aemond over your shoulder, you dropped your eyes to the floor in a show of shyness. “Will you put it on me?”

Aemond’s gaze never left the skin of your exposed neck as he approached and laid the cloak over you with the gentlest whisper of a touch. He was close enough that you could hear his breathing quicken and feel the heat roiling off him. After the excessive amount of time he spent assuring that the cloak fell correctly, he finally stepped in front of you to fasten the front.

He tried, so very hard, to not look at your face as he did. But you caught every time his eye looked up at you – your eyes, your cheeks, your lips.

Kiss me, you willed silently, not yet brave enough to ask for it aloud.

The wish went unfulfilled. Once he had fastened the twin brooches of your cloak, Aemond smoothed it over once more, then offered you his hand. “The wheelhouse will be waiting for us,” he said.

You took his hand and let him lead you away.

The journey to the edge of the Kingswood passed quickly, the time filled with idle conversation about the city as you raced past it. You had questions about every statue, alleyway, and building; for the most part, Aemond had answers. The city’s history was inexorably tied to House Targaryen, and so he had taken it upon himself to learn everything there was to know about it.

It was enough to soothe your fears about meeting the largest dragon in the world. Until that is, you passed through the city gates, and the Kingswood appeared on the horizon.

“Why does Vhagar live in the forest?” you asked, peering through the curtains of the wheelhouse. “Why does she not live in the Dragonpit with the others?”

Aemond raised his brows proudly, “She has grown so large that she can no longer fit in the Dragonpit.”

The very idea was at once awesome and terrifying. You had seen the Dragonpit in the distance from your windows at the Red Keep and some dragons flying around it. That Vhagar could not even fit inside…

“So Maegor did not build it large enough? Even when he rode Balerion?”

“Well,” Aemond shrugged. “She could fit in the Dragonpit if it was necessary. But it would not be comfortable. It would stifle her. I do not want that.”

Just as he did not want you to be alone and trapped in the castle – enough that he would set you free of it if you asked. “You care for her very much, then?”

“I do, yes,” he answered, his eyes becoming contemplative while his lips still curled in a smile. “She is… I have told you that the relationship between dragon and rider is like a partnership, yes?”

“You have, yes.”

“It means that there must be understanding between the pair,” he explained. “Common ground, or even a shared soul. I know it may seem illogical or insane, but Vhagar understands me. She cannot speak it, but I know that she does. For most of my life, it has felt like she is the only one…” he trailed off as his eye came to rest once more upon you.

Until you, you could hear the words as well as if he had shouted them. Rather than a pit of fear, it created a warmth within you. Aemond understood you, and you were beginning to feel as if you understood him as well.

“Then I very much look forward to meeting her,” you replied. It was the truth, though you still possessed a healthy tinge of fear at meeting a dragon said to be now larger than Balerion had been during the conquest.

Aemond lifted the curtain from his window and looked back at you with an eager grin. “You will not have to wait much longer, my dear. We have arrived.”

When the porter opened the wheelhouse door, Aemond lept out. But you remained frozen in your seat. Had he not realised what he had just said?

“My dear.”

It has been said with such ease as though it was something he called you often. But that was the first time. Those two simple words had struck you like a thunderbolt and left you feeling as though you had run the distance from the castle for how fast your heart was racing.

After a moment, Aemond reappeared at the door, his arm extended to you. “Come,” he bade. “There is no reason to fear. She will not hurt you.”

You almost laughed at his misinterpretation of your state, but not wanting to explain the truth of it, you merely stood and took his arm. “Forgive me, but meeting a dragon is not an experience granted to many.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said, squeezing your arm and pulling you closer to him. “There never has been.”

“None of that now,” you begged. “That is all behind us. Let us just enjoy our new present.” You turned away from him, ending any argument he may have put forward.

You were expecting to be greeted by the sight of the great Vhagar, but all that was before you was the forest’s edge. A clearing of sorts, where the ground was tamped thoroughly flat, and nearly all the trees were missing their tips.

“Where is she?” you asked, surprised to find yourself disappointed that she was not there.

Aemond gently dropped your arm and stepped forward. “She must be off hunting. I will call her.” He walked to the edge of the clearing, then raised his hand to his lips and whistled louder than you had ever imagined a person could. “Vhagar! Māzīs va nykēlā !”

The forest fell silent once more, but he did not move to call again.

“Was that Valyrian?” You moved closer to him, but not all the way into the clearing. “The words you just said. ”

He turned back to you with an amused smile. “It was. It means ‘Come to me.’ That is how I call her back when she is away.”

You came even closer to him, your curiosity getting the better of you, until he was only a step ahead. “And she can hear you? Even if she is all the way across the Kingswood?”

“She can hear me if she is near enough,” he said as he held out his hand for you to take, “but the calling is more than just words. She can sense that I want her to come to me, even if she can’t hear me.”

“That is – ”

You were cut off by the loudest sound you had ever heard. A roar which seemed to shake the very foundation of the earth and the thunderous pounding of wings. Gods, how large were her wings to make such a sound?

Without realising it, you had thrown yourself into Aemond’s arms. Your face was pressed to his chest while your hands gripped the leather of his coat. He did not laugh or push you away. Of course he didn’t. He only wrapped his arms around you and whispered soothing reassurances.

It was so warm in his arms, and with the music of his calm, steady voice, you could have easily fallen asleep then and there.

That is, if the wingbeats weren’t coming nearer.

As the sound of them grew overwhelming, then stopped, you allowed Aemond to turn you to face none other than Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons.

She was enormous.

Her body filled the clearing entirely, her tail snaking through the trees beyond until the end of it – some 100 feet away- wrapped around the broad trunk of a great oak. You followed the tail up, over aged green scales that climbed higher and higher until you were looking at a torso taller than the two-story cottage your grandmother lived in. And though her wings were tucked in to allow her to fit in the clearing, you could easily guess that they measured even longer than her body when extended.

Even her head was so large that you had to turn your neck up to see her eyes – bright orange eyes that glowed like a roaring fire as they looked down upon you. Her lip curled as she rumbled a low growl, revealing teeth as long as your forearm, and you stepped back into Aemond’s chest.

“Lykirī, Vhagar,” he commanded, wrapping one arm protectively around your waist. “Dohaeras.” You could feel his hair shift against your back as he turned his head to look at you. “Ziry ñuhon ābrazȳrys issa.”

Vhagar ended her growl but continued baring her teeth as she tilted her head to better examine you. After a moment, she narrowed her eyes at Aemond.

“Ziry sepār nyke izūgilen issa daor,” he said with a distinctly reassuring tone. “Nyke jorrāelan zirȳla. Olvie nyke jorrāelan zirȳla.”

Finally, the dragon hid her terrifying teeth and, with a huff of steam from her nostrils, extended her neck to come closer to you.

“Aemond…” you whispered, near cowering as Vhagar came close enough for you to smell the brimstone on her breath.

“It’s alright,” he replied. His lithe fingers began to trace lines up and down your sides. Whether it was as a distraction or a comfort, you did not know. “She just wants to get your scent, so she can know you better.”

You tried to calm yourself, not wanting Vhagar to smell your fear – if that was something a dragon could smell. When she finally brought her snout almost to touching you before sniffing, each inhale sucking all the heat out of the air around you. After a moment, she withdrew slightly and made a noise that, had you not been merely thankful she hadn’t eaten you, you would have described it as a purr.

“She likes you,” Aemond said into your ear, pride dripping from each word. “She likes you very much. Would you like to pet her?”

A nervous laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “You want me to pet a dragon? Like she is a dog.”

“She enjoys it, I promise.” He lifted his hand from your side to take yours and guided it to the scales between her nostrils. “This is her favourite place. That’s it. You don’t have to scratch, just stroke her scales – be sure to follow their natural direction. She won’t like it if you tug on them.”

Vhagar continued to purr as you stroked her scales, only making contact with the downward motion. Your smile grew so wide your cheeks ached, and you could not help but laugh. “She’s like an old cat! A very big old cat.”

Aemond laughed with you, again hugging you to him as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Be glad she can’t understand you, for she is a very grumpy big old cat.”

“I feel almost foolish to have been afraid,” you confessed as you ever so slightly bumped your head against his.

“We like to keep people – most people – afraid of the dragons. It makes them a more effective deterrent.” He nuzzled into you and sighed happily. “But I am glad you are not afraid. Would you like to ride her?”

“What?” You froze, looking up at Vhagar’s saddle high above you and the sky even higher still. “I, uh…”

Aemond shushed your frantic attempt to find words. “If you don’t want to, I won’t force you. It is a unique thrill to fly, but I understand it is not for everyone.”

You turned in his arms. “I would like to, eventually. But today, I believe I have already used all my bravery.”

Well, not all of it. But you only just had enough left to get you through your plans for the night, and you were determined to keep it.

“Then we shall return to the Keep,” he said, not a hint of disappointment on his face, “and wait for a day when your bravery has returned. It is approaching sunset, and I will be expected at dinner.”

You nodded, and Aemond said a farewell to Vhagar in Valyrian before leading you back to the wheelhouse. The two of you rode in comfortable silence back to the castle, until he again helped you out.

“I would like to come to dinner with you,” you told him as you walked through the doors of the Red Keep. “And then, after dinner, I would like you to wait an hour and then come to my rooms.”

Aemond blanched, then flushed, then let out a shaky exhale. “Of course,” he breathed, “whatever you want, my dear.”

When Aemond arrived in your chambers after dinner – during which he nearly jumped out of his chair each time you spoke or laid your hand on his thigh – you were sitting at the vanity, finishing with your hair. He puttered around in the solar for a moment before coming into the bedchamber, where he looked first to the bed and, upon not finding you there, began to glance around the rest of the room. When he finally turned your way, you met his eyes through the mirror and gave him an overly innocent grin as he took in your attire.

“I… what…?” His babbling continued for a moment before he quieted. For a long while, he just stared at you with an open mouth and a wide eye. He only composed himself again when you stood and approached him, stopping just before you were in arm’s reach of each other. “What are you wearing?”

“Don’t you like it?” You asked with a mischievous pout, glancing down to survey yourself. “You liked it well enough the first time you saw it.”

It took a moment for your words to sink in. You saw the moment he finally heard your words and immediately began to fumble over a reply. “Of course I like it! I more than like it, I adore it. You must know that I do. I just… why this?”

You took two steps forward, until you were close enough that Aemond had to look down to meet your eyes, and you had to look up to see his. Teasingly, you ran a hand over the neckline of your gown, across each pearl and jewel that adorned it. “I thought since you didn’t like my favourite nightclothes, I needed to find something else to entice you. This seemed a good option.”

Aemond murmured something so softly you couldn’t hear it, even as close as you were.

Another step had you standing chest to chest with your husband. You could feel him struggling to calm his breathing as he looked at you, entirely captivated and at your mercy.

Standing on your tiptoes so you could press your cheek to his, you took a moment to smile at the way his breath caught at the contact, and his hand hovered just above your waist, still unsure if he really could touch you. Then, you whispered gently in his ear, “I know you had plans to take this off me yourself, so I thought I’d give you the chance.”

Without giving him a moment to respond, you took several steps back to allow him the best possible view of your wedding gown.

Your maids had been perplexed when you asked that they retrieve it so you could wear it tonight, but they had not argued. Their only complaint was that it was not possible to replicate the braid from your wedding day in such a short amount of time. So, they simply arranged it as nicely as they could before the deadline you gave them and tucked each of the gold and pearl pins you had worn then back into the braids and curls.

With only a few minor differences, you looked precisely as you did on your wedding night.

But now you weren’t afraid of what Aemond would do. Now, you were eager to find out.

“I, uh…” he wrung his hands together as he stepped forward. “I believe we should begin with your hair.”

“Very well.” You flounced over to the vanity and retook your seat, watching him through the mirror as he cautiously approached.

He lifted a shaky hand and ran his hand slowly over the braids. “How do I begin?”

“Start by removing the pins, then brush out the braids.”

“And how many pins are there?”

“Forty-seven,” you answered smugly.

Aemond’s eyes went wide, “That many?”

“Why do you think it takes women so long to dress in the mornings? And undress at night?”

He laughed slightly, then took one of the pearl-tipped pearls between his fingers and gently pulled it out.

On your wedding day, you had thought the pins inordinately large. But seeing one in Aemond’s hands – his very large hands, they seemed miniscule.

“That’s one,” he said, depositing the pin on the surface of the vanity.

With each pin he removed, he kept count and laid each one in a perfectly straight line. But you could not be too amused by it, for each time you were, his hand would brush your neck, cup your head, or tangle into your hair. It had never felt like this when your maids tended to you.

Aemond was a dragon, and his touch was fire.

Each passing brush of his fingers burned within you, building into a raging fire or desire. By the time he finished, and laid the forty-seventh pin on the table, you were well flushed and practically panting. And as he looked to you for further direction, he could see it all. Your only consolation was that he looked as ragged as you.

“Now comb through the braids with your fingers to separate them,” you instructed. You did have a wide-toothed comb specifically meant for separating braids, but you were certainly not going to pass up the opportunity to have his hands in your hair again.

He reached for the first braid – the largest – and hooked his fingers into its base. “Please, tell me if I hurt you.”

“You won’t. I know it.”

“Your confidence is all I need,” he laughed, and began to pull his hand away. The braid spilt past his fingers with an ease you had rarely been fortunate enough to see before. So did the next, and the next, until your hair was once more free to spill down your back.

“Now I brush it?” Aemond asked, reaching for the silver-backed brush on the vanity.

But you stood before he could reach it, turning to him and pushing him slightly away. “You did well enough with your fingers that brushing is unnecessary. And… I know you are eager.” You had felt the hard evidence of it against your back as he stood behind you.

“I am,” he said, “but there are other things I must do first.” He cupped your face gently, his thumb slowly swiping over your cheekbone. His eye was focused solely on your lips but filled with apprehension. And as you watched the slight pursing of his mouth, the tightening of his jaw, and the slightest furrow of his brow, you were confident that you understood exactly what he was thinking.

Funny, he had been reading your thoughts for so long. Now, it seemed you had finally caught up with him.

“You don’t have to ask,” you whispered. “You may kiss me – I want you to kiss me.”

There was a flash of elated surprise, followed by a moment of anxiety, fueled by his desperate desire that tonight not be like before. The last time he had done this, you had shied away from him, asked that he not do the one thing he had been most desperate to do.

You could read it all on his face as clearly as the words in his diary.

So, you decided to ease his anxieties yourself. Seizing the lapels of his doublet, you pulled him down to you and kissed him.

It was far from perfect. You had been overzealous and pulled him with too much force, causing your teeth to clash together as your lips connected.

Neither of you was deterred. Aemond’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck, holding you steady as he kissed, and kissed, and kissed you.

It was like you were dancing – he led, and you followed. When he pressed forward, you allowed him to do so, leaning back to give him the room he needed while still holding him close. When he softly urged your lips to part with his tongue, you offered no resistance. And when he slid one arm around your waist to pull you flush against him, you ran your hand up his chest and into his hair, tugging slightly as you tried to draw him ever closer.

At that, Aemond moaned.

Instinctively, you pulled back, breaking the kiss. It was probably due to end soon anyways – both of you were panting and out of breath.

“What happened?” he asked, his face flashing between confusion and hurt. “What did I do wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong. I did!” You ran your hand out of his hair and held it up as though he could see the evidence upon it. “I hurt you; I apologise.”

Aemond smiled broadly and pulled you in for another kiss. “You did not hurt me,” he whispered when he pulled back. “I made that sound because I enjoyed it.”

“Oh!”

“I assure you,” he said as he guided your hand back into his hair, “you have my enthusiastic permission to continue.” Then he pulled you back in and kissed you again, and again, and again.

You decided that you very much liked kissing your husband, even when he slipped his tongue into your mouth. It was not the most pleasant of sensations for you but one you were willing to become accustomed to so long as it brought him pleasure.

It would have been very easy to stay like that all night, but you had endured putting this complicated gown on again for a reason – for Aemond.

So, with no minor difficulty, you pulled away from him, smiling when he moved to follow you.

“No, no,” you scolded playfully. “Before we continue, I insist you help me out of my dress.”

“Of course,” he answered, his voice nearly breaking with desperation. “Anything you ask of me, I will do.”

You turned slowly away from him and lifted your hair over one shoulder, exposing the lacing on the back of the gown. “Then I ask that you untie me, husband.”

He said nothing, but you felt him approach. Felt the heat of him just behind you and the ghost of his fingers at the base of your neck. You felt the light pressure as he gripped the white satin ribbon with one hand but not the other…

The other he wound around your waist to pull you closer, so that he could plant a chaste kiss against the side of your neck. You shivered at the sensation – the warmth slowly fading as he pulled back.

“I know we are both impatient,” he murmured against your skin, “but I want to savour this moment. Please, allow me to take my time.”

You raised an arm to draw him back to your lips. This kiss was not as hungry as the others. It was soft, sweet, and slow. “Take however long you need, Aemond. I am not going anywhere.”

And take his time he did. With every eyelet he unlaced, he kissed your neck again. As he lowered the sleeves one at a time, he kissed a path from your shoulder to your hands. When he untied your stockings, he rubbed the same soothing circles on your thighs that had once made you desperate for his touch.

Then suddenly, you were only in your shift, the chill of the night air prickling against your skin.

Aemond stood and began to fiddle with the hem of your sleeve. “If you don’t want… If you want to keep this on, I won’t mind.”

“I want this, I promise,” you guided his hand away from the sleeve and down toward the hem, ensuring he came quite close to the space between your thighs. “It’s easier to remove from the bottom.”

He seized the hem and lifted, before pressing his forehead to yours and kissing you again. “I love you. And I ask that you only say it back should you really, truly mean it. With all your heart.”

You knew he wanted to hear it, despite his words. His eye was too pleading, too filled with hope. And though you wanted to say it, just to make him happy, you couldn’t. Not will all your heart, at least. Aemond deserved for it to be true.

So instead, you kissed him, lacing your fingers with his to finally remove the shift and bare yourself to him.

If he minded the diversion, he did not say. In fact, given that you then watched his eye dilate as he looked down at your body, you were fairly confident that he didn’t mind at all. And you were very confident that he loved your breasts, as they were where his gaze always returned to.

“May I…?” he asked breathlessly, his hand floating just above your heart. But at this moment, it was not your heart he wanted, but what lay just beneath it.

Aemond didn’t hesitate to cup your breast in his large hand, covering it completely. Though his touch was warm, your nipples went taut as he slowly massaged one breast, then the other. He tested several different ways of holding them, of applying pressure to them, and even experimented with pinching your peaked nipples – for which you quickly put a limit on how tightly he could do so.

After a moment, he licked his lips and looked up at you for permission. A nod was all he needed to bend down and take your breast into his mouth, laying sloppy kisses all over their surface before rolling his tongue lazily over your nipples.

You had enjoyed all his ministration thus far, but that?

That had your head lolling back as you moaned his name, a moan you were not given the chance to finish before his mouth was again on yours – possessive and wanting.

“Get on the bed,” he panted, a far more passionate entreaty than it had been on your wedding night, and you were far more confident.

You resisted his attempts to pull you closer to the bed, and when he leaned in to try and ply you with more kisses, you countered by nipping the tip of his nose – lightly, but hard enough to get his attention.

“Please,” he begged, ‘please get on the bed.”

“I will, Aemond.” He whined at the breathy way you said his name, tightening his grip on your hips. “First, let me remove your clothes.”

His eye was so dilated you could hardly see any purple and more than half-lidded with lust, but he obeyed, taking a single step away after giving your soft flesh a little squeeze. “Start with the belt, then the doublet, then – ”

“I am fairly confident I can figure out how to remove your clothes,” you teased. Though it soon became clear your confidence was unfounded.

Just undoing the knot on his belt took far longer than you expected. He only laughed when you frustratedly asked why he needed to knot his belt when it already had a perfectly good buckle. Fortunately, the buckles on his doublet were far simpler, though they were small enough to still delay you.

When at last you were able to throw the damned doublet and belt aside, you took your frustrations out on his neck, kissing it with such enthusiasm that you nearly pushed him over. After that display of lust, Aemond was quick to assist you with his shirt and trousers.

The moment he was as bare as you, he tried to pull you onto the bed, but again, you resisted. You had only once seen him nude, but you had not been in the mood to admire his form then. Now, you were mesmerised by the sight before you.

A long neck leading to powerful shoulders, long arms that ended in long fingers, a long, lithe torso with many divots you longed to explore, and long, slender legs corded with muscle. Every single part of him was long. Especially…

“In your diagrams, you only included the female anatomy,” you mused as you approached him, eyes locked on his flushed, hard cock. “I feel I am at a significant disadvantage, since I don’t know – ” You shrieked as Aemond grabbed you by the waist and carried you to the bed, depositing you squarely in the middle before crawling over you and peppering your face with tender kisses.

“Believe me, it is far simpler with men,” he laughed as he descended down your chest. “I doubt you will need any formal instruction.”

Formulating a witty enough response was nearly impossible as he trailed his mouth down and down. Between your breasts, over your stomach, and then –

Then nothing. Aemond sat between your spread legs, lifting your hips to rest slightly on his knees. The grin he flashed was nothing short of pure evil. He held your gaze as he took his thumb briefly into your mouth before bringing it down to that little button at the top of your sex, only long enough to bring you a moment of pleasure before he slipped it further down to part your slick folds.

“Gods,” he sighed, swiping his thumb over your entrance to collect as much fluid as he could before bringing it back to circle your pearl agonisingly slowly. “I’d hoped you’d be wet, but… I never expected this.”

You bucked your hips, trying to get him to go faster, press harder, something. Until now, you had only ever had the briefest tastes of pleasure, but now you craved more. You craved him.

“Please, Aemond!” you squealed as he finally pressed his thumb down harder.

“Give me a moment, my dear,” he said smugly. “I thought it would take longer to get you to this point. I’m having to reassess my plan.”

“Fuck your plan!” you shouted, more helplessly than you intended, judging by Aemond’s answering laugh. “Please, just do something – anything!”

“I am doing something!” he countered, emphasising his point by quickening his movements. “And it looks to me as though you’re enjoying it.”

Damn it, you were. But still, it wasn’t enough. You squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back against the pillow, moaning incoherently.

“Oh, my poor darling,” Aemond cooed, “you really are desperate, aren’t you?”

You felt tears prickle in your eyes as you nodded furiously, only managing to again say “please.”

He slowed his thumb to a stop and crawled back over you, until your faces were level. “Open your eyes, love.” You obeyed, and were rewarded with a soft kiss on your forehead. “Good girl. I’m going to give you more now, but you must promise that if it hurts or if it gets to be too much, you must tell me. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” you squeaked pathetically.

Aemond kissed you one last time before he retook his position between your legs, once more gathering your slick on his pointer finger before slowly – so, so slowly – pushing it inside you. It was a different feeling from his cock; not quite as pleasurable, but the discomfort on entry was far less.

“Is that alright?” he asked, and you nodded. “I’m going to move it now. Please tell me when I’ve found the correct spot.”

You didn’t have a chance to respond before he crooked his finger and found that ‘spot.’ The one he wrote about in his diary, the one that brought nearly the same pleasure as your pearl.

Aemond’s studying has undoubtedly paid off.

Your back arched so dramatically that he had to anchor you to the bed with his free hand on your hip. “There it is,” he crooned, utterly prideful, “do you want me to keep going?” You answered with a slew of yeses that blended into a happy hissing sound, then turned into a loud moan as he inserted another finger into you, crooking it along with the other to massage that magical little spot. “You’re doing so well, my love.”

You were too engulfed in your pleasure that you hardly even noticed the new term of endearment. All you knew was his fingers inside you, stoking a fire that burned brighter, brighter, brighter.

Everything felt hot, and soon a sheen of sweat covered your skin. You took a deep breath, angling your hips almost unconsciously, but in a way that somehow heightened your pleasure enough for your body to shake. There was tension in every muscle, a delightful tension that had you clenching your fists in the sheets and curling your toes to try and relieve. It built and built, focusing on where Aemond was touching you, where his fingers went in and out and pressed and stroked.

It was too much. Your body couldn’t possibly endure this. This was where you had always stopped when you were exploring on your own – this was past that point, and Aemond was only taking you further and further.

“Aemond, please,” you begged. What for, you didn’t know. You didn’t want him to stop, but you were afraid to discover what would happen next.

He sped his movements, watching your face with a heart-stopping intensity in his eye. “Don’t hold it in, love,” he said, splaying his free hand across your stomach. “Give into it, let it go, release.”

The word may well have been a command, for the moment he finished speaking, you let go. Lightning coursed through you, and all your limbs froze and went numb for a moment that felt like it lasted a whole year. The tension dissipated, and all of a sudden you could breathe again, feel again, think again.

“Was that…?”

Aemond’s thumb stroked your belly, the delicate touch making you realise that he had removed his fingers from you and now held them just before his lips. “It was your peak, my love.” Never looking away from you, he took the fingers that were inside you into his mouth, sucking on them as if they were the sweetest candied lemons. “Forgive me, but I think I’d like another.”

It happened so quickly. One moment, he was kneeling between your legs. The next, Aemond had pushed you further up the bed so he could lay on his stomach and drape your legs over his shoulders, his hands holding your rear as he pulled you up until your cunt was pressed to his mouth.

Your hands flew into his hair, simultaneously tugging at it and yet trying to pull him closer. His tongue was surely some kind of miracle. How else would it feel so wonderful as he licked up every drop of moisture between your thighs before pressing into your core?

More miraculous still was his nose, for every time he pushed deeper, it pressed against your pearl, rubbed against it each time he angled his head. He quickly noticed what, exactly, was driving you wild, and took to shaking his head back and forth to make you scream – and scream you did.

“Gods, Aemond, please!” You cried as the delicious tension returned, still crackling with electricity. This was far more intense than his fingers had been, and far faster to take you to that place where you had nearly no control over your own body.

Nearly no control. Some instinct deep within you, which had no purpose but to seek animalistic pleasure, took hold of you. Your hand in his hair tightened so hard he again moaned, sending vibrations through you that nearly pushed you over the edge of your pleasure. But what finally sent you tumbling over was when he allowed you to pull him up until his lips latched around your pearl, and after several long, lingering licks of his tongue, he hummed, and you screamed anew.

When you opened your eyes again, Aemond was once more hovering above you, looking at you as though your reddened, sweaty face was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. You were certain that guards would come streaming into the chambers at the sound, swords drawn, but none did. It was still only you and your husband. He seemed entirely content, but when you glanced down at his cock, you found it so flushed that you were sure it hurt.

“I should…” your voice faded as you reached down to touch the heavy length of him. “I don’t know how, but you could show me.”

Aemond smiled softly, his half-lidded eye seeming to glaze over for a moment. “Another time, I would like nothing more. But tonight…” He leaned down to press a slow, lust-filled kiss to your swollen lips and rested his forehead against yours when he finally withdrew. “Please don’t make me wait any longer, my love.”

Eagerly, you nodded. You were absolutely resolved to learn how to pleasure him – with your hands and mouth–. Still, it seemed a daunting task, and your body was aching to find out what Aemond could do once he was inside you.

So, you did not argue as he reached down to align himself with your entrance. But he did not yet push forward. Supporting himself with one arm, he gave you another short kiss and stroked your hair.

“I promise,” he whispered, “it will be better this time.”

You leaned into his touch and shifted your hips to try and draw him closer. When Aemond hesitated again, you looked into his eye and raised a hand to cup his cheek. “I know it will. Now please, I don’t want to wait either.”

Then he buried himself inside you in one powerful thrust.

There was still a slight pinch of uncomfortable pressure at the start, but it did not last long. And compared to the pleasure it brought you, it was entirely inconsequential. You felt full in the most wonderful way, as if you had been missing something your whole life and finally found it. Warm, like he had lit a fire within you that would burn for the rest of your days. Safe, as though nothing could ever harm you again.

You felt right.

During that moment of stillness, where you both adjusted to the feeling of joining, you buried your face in Aemond’s neck. There was nothing but him, his silver hair blocking the rest of the world from view as his scent enveloped you. Perhaps you could just stay like this forever. That was a delightful thought. You nuzzled further into him as you let out a sigh of contentment.

Aemond tensed and whispered your name. “Does it hurt? Did I not prepare you well enough?”

“No,” you replied, still not pulling away. As the desperate need for even more closeness began to well up in your chest, you wrapped the hand that was cupping his cheek around his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin for how tightly you held him. “It just… it feels – you feel amazing. I wish it had always felt like this.”

“It will now,” Aemond replied, turning to place a kiss atop your head. He, too, sought to bring you closer. He brought his hand down to your waist and pulled you up so that your chests met and moved together as you breathed together. “I promise it will always feel this good. Perhaps better, once we practice a little more.”

“Oh yes!” you squeaked, finally dropping your head back to the pillow so you could look at him. “Let’s do lots of practice!”

With a laugh, he raised his brows in mock questioning. “Might I suggest we start now?”

Words escaped you for a moment, and all you could do was nod vigorously, like a child that had just been offered a whole tray of cakes. Your agreement and excitement seemed to delight Aemond, causing him to smile so wide his eyes crinkled. You instantly decided that you wanted to see that smile every day. Every hour. Every minute. For that smile was brighter than the sun itself.

“Put your legs around me, love,” he instructed, curling his hand around your thigh to guide you. Once you were positioned exactly how he wanted you, he pulled himself slightly closer to the headboard and leaned in for one last kiss, stopping just above your lips. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you breathed against him, “so very ready.”

Aemond stayed in your bed all night, continuing to pleasure you until it was all you could do to keep your eyes open. Then, he stroked your hair while assuring you he was not leaving, which did not calm your panic when he got out of bed. But he soon returned, carrying a carafe of water and a damp towel. He murmured praises in your ear as he cleaned you and then himself, and commanded that you drink at least one full glass of water before you fell asleep.

You obeyed and afterwards fell asleep tucked into his chest. The next morning, you did not remember your last words to your husband before you drifted off, but he certainly did.

“I’m sorry I can’t say I love you,” you’d whispered, only half-awake, “but if you give me some time, I’m sure I can.”

Those words echoed through his mind as he slept, dreaming of a life where he would not have to walk halfway across the castle to reach his separate rooms. Where he could sleep like this, with his arms around you, every night. Where when he told you he loved you, you would respond in kind.

A dream he hoped he could live very soon. But until then, he would give you all the time you needed.

Waking from that dream was nearly a nightmare in itself, until he looked over and saw you still in his arms, still fast asleep. Your hair was a mess, and your nose was scrunched as you dreamed, but he loved every bit of it. He told you as much when you finally awoke.

When you insisted on following him to his rooms so you could attend the morning meal together, he did not protest. He loved watching you look around each chamber, your mind racing as you imagined how you would decorate the blank walls. He loved that, too.

What he did not love was that when you walked into the dining room, hand in hand, Aegon instantly perked up in his chair. His eyes darted between you and Aemond with dizzying speed before he raised his brows and mouthed, “Did she come?”

Aemond only glared at him, but you smiled and nodded, then held up seven fingers.

Begrudgingly, he loved that, too.

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 2 months

Text

Bluebird — Part VII — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and reader’s relationship with growing, but so are the tensions between human and fae. Reader is being yanked back and forth between what she think she knows, and what she knows she feels.

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Word Count: 5k.

Warnings: Mentions of masturbation/sex. Mentions of violence.

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Weeks passed, and thus began a routine.

You found yourself thankful for your father’s campaigns against the fae, only because of the freedom it afforded you. Him being away for stints at a time meant you had the inn to yourself, time to yourself — your excitement for which would once have been about losing yourself in your music.

Somehow…somehow, that enthusiasm had bled so heavily into the other factor at play. That with your father gone, you were able to have secret meetings with the man — male — who had begun to consume every one of your thoughts.

Awake, you daydreamed about him. Asleep, he visited you there, too. You had never felt so giddy, never known any feeling like it.

And for a fae male, too.

Sometimes, you wondered if you should feel guilt. For lying to your father, going behind his back. For the fact that Azriel came from the same species that had brutally taken your mother from you.

But this small, secret thing — whatever it was blossoming into — was solely yours. And it brought you such happiness that everything else seemed to fade away.

For three weeks now, Azriel had visited you without fail. On the same night, at the same time. The two of you had devised a signal — he would fly above the inn, and if your bedroom curtains were open, all was well and it was safe for him to winnow into your room. It had worked flawlessly, become a routine.

The only difference between those three visits was that he’d stayed longer each time. You certainly weren’t complaining.

Now, you sat at the dressing table in your bedroom, the curtains wide open and the stars winking at you in the sky. Your father’s campaign had taken him to a village a couple of hours south this week. The inn was locked up for the night, still and silent.

It wasn’t long before you were feeling that telltale prickle of awareness at the back of your neck — the one that always came seconds before Azriel stepped out of thin air. You turned on your dressing stool just as he materialised before you.

You supposed you were opposites in your appearance. He was all dark leathers and brutal weapons and snaking shadows. You were delicate as moonlight, in the slip of a nightgown, your hair unbound and face open. Opposites, and yet in a way that was most poetic.

“Sorry I’m a little late,” Azriel said by way of greeting. A little late was no more than five minutes. “I had some business to attend to at home.”

“I’ll forgive you this time,” you teased, your mouth curving into the small, giddy smile that you were sure you so often wore around him. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine. Especially now that I’m here,” he held a scarred hand out to you. “How shall we spend our time tonight?”

Cooped up in the inn, there were only so many things you and Azriel could do together. But talking for hours, or reading to one another, or losing yourselves in music…Azriel didn’t seem to tire of any of it. If it bothered him that you couldn’t venture outside for a late-night stroll, he hid it marvellously.

“Are you hungry?” you asked. “I could dig out some food for a late dinner,” your eyes darted to the clock at your bedside. Gone midnight. “A very late dinner.”

A deep caress of a chuckle left him. “Sounds wonderful.”

So Azriel kept you company as you dug through your kitchen for anything that didn’t require cooking. As you gathered a small feast of cheese, cold meats, grapes and bread, it occurred to you that you had never once wondered what food might be like on the other side of the wall. What kind of foods did the fae even eat? Did elaborate dishes interest them, or was food just a means for sustenance? Did some have cravings? A sweet tooth? Allergies—

“What,” a deep voice brought you out of your thoughts, “are you thinking so hard about?”

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, and you couldn’t bite back your smile as Azriel buried his chin into your shoulder, his mouthwatering scent enveloping you. You watched in pure fascination as a shadow danced around you and plucked a grape from the plate.

“Do they…eat?” you blinked, purely amazed that the fruit didn’t fall through the mist-like form.

“The shadows?” Azriel chuckled gently. “No. They need no sustenance. They just…are.”

“And what of your kind?”

He paused. “My kind?”

“Faeries. Do you eat to stay alive, or do you eat because food tastes good? What would a faerie even eat? I mean…do you buy food from the market, or do you hunt for every meal—”

“Why would we not need food to stay alive?”

Something about his tone had you faltering — a sudden edge to his voice that made you think of sharp blades and brutal night. A beat passed before you turned in his arms to look up at him, read his face. But nothing was to be found there. Not by an untrained eye, anyway.

“Aren’t you immortal?” you asked.

“The fae live a very, very long time — provided we take care of our bodies.” Azriel answered tightly. “But we are living beings. We can be weakened, and we can be hurt — as you well know, considering you removed the ash arrows I was shot with.”

You hadn’t stopped to think of that. The memory of his pain, though, made you want to flinch.

“Yes, we enjoy food just as much as humans do. And we need nutrition and sustenance, just as humans do. Perhaps not in the same way, but we need it all the same, and the majority of us do not need to hunt for it.” His eyes — somewhat guarded and reserved — scanned your face. “We think and we feel. We are not just beings of violent tendencies made into appealing mirages to lure people in. We are not hollow statues capable only of bad.”

The words hung between you, strangely haunting and stunning. And it was amidst those words that you realised a wall had been ever so slightly risen. That you’d touched a raw nerve.

“My question offended you,” you breathed, still somewhat taken aback by the fervour with which he’d spoken.

It was Azriel, then, who faltered — and studied you.

His eyes flicked over your face, and something softened imperceptibly in his own.

“I know…I know you have more reason to think negatively of my kind than you do positively,” he lowered his gaze. “I know that you, personally, have suffered at our hands, and gods, if I knew who had caused you such pain, I would—” he cut himself off. Took a breath. Seemed to force himself to relax. “I understand why you think and feel what you do—”

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

His eyes met yours again. They were once more the warm, honeyed eyes you’d grown used to these past weeks. “I know,” he admitted. “I just…don’t want you to think of me as a monster. I want you to know that not all of us are bad.”

That wasn’t so hard to wrap your head around, was it? There was good and bad all over the human realm. Why would it not be the same across the wall?

You just…needed to accept that the fae weren’t strictly how you had always been raised to believe. Not all of them, anyway.

Certainly not Azriel.

“I know,” you said earnestly, and his shoulders relaxed even more. “I’m sorry.”

“As am I.”

Your brow furrowed. “For what?”

A mischievous glimmer lightened his beautiful eyes, and his lips quirked into a smile as the shadow — that same one from before, grape and all — swam through the air to his mouth. And pushed the grape between his waiting lips.

“For stealing a grape,” he smirked.

You grinned, relieved that the tension was gone, and repeated your earlier words. “I’ll forgive you this time.”

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Bellies full, you drained your glass of wine and lounged back.

You and Azriel had thrown a blanket on the floor of your sitting room, your backs pressed against the worn sofa and your finished food in front of you. A makeshift indoor picnic of sorts.

Sitting together like this, it was easy to let the rest of the world drain away. A distinct feeling existed between you that you’d known Azriel far longer than you’d even been alive, and that came with ease, with comfort.

You nestled back against the couch cushions, allowing yourself to drink in the sight of the male at your side. He sat with his head tipped back and eyes closed — content to soak in the moment. So, so beautiful, you weren’t sure you could breathe. And to think he was at your house, by your side.

A shadow drifted up, lingering at his ear. Azriel seemed to stiffen, before his lips tipped up into a smile, his eyes opening and immediately finding yours.

As if…as if that shadow had told him you’d been staring. Had it known what you were thinking, too?

You narrowed your eyes, watching every fluid lope that it took back to his side. “Do they always tell you what I’m doing?”

Azriel chuckled — seemed impressed that you’d figured it out. “Not always.”

“But sometimes.” A thought struck you — one that had your face flushing. “Do they…do they know what I’m doing, even when they’re not here?”

“No,” the shadowsinger angled his head curiously. “Why?”

You shook your head. A change of subject was definitely in order.

Because it would be a lie to say that these past weeks, you hadn’t grown more…curious, in your body. In the sensations that had been awoken like kindling to a flame.

You’d had them before, of course, like you imagined most women your age had. But those desires hadn’t truly been desirous. They’d been…dulled, easy to ignore.

That had changed, as of late.

A couple of times now, you had awoken from dreams of rippling muscle, tan skin, wings. A melodic voice had lingered in your ears, and a heat had ached between your legs that hadn’t been relieved until you were following instinct and touching yourself, exploring yourself. You’d writhed in your bed and drenched yourself with sweat and muffled a cry as you’d crested that hill into release.

And it was Azriel that you’d thought about through it all.

Recalling it now had your cheeks scorching.

Azriel sucked in a slow breath, and his voice was a little strained as he asked, “What does that look mean?”

You cleared your throat. Shook your thoughts off. “I was wondering something.”

“…Wondering what?”

How to phrase the foreign thoughts that were filling your head at an alarming pace? This was all new to you — not just the clandestine meetings with a fae male, but every thought, feeling and sensation that seemed to follow. You were feeling too many things to keep up with.

And right then, in that split second, the thought that suddenly plagued you had you feeling something…unpleasant. Itchy and bitter.

“…Don’t you have anyone else you could be doing this with?” you asked, and Azriel’s brow immediately pinched. “Don’t get me wrong, I like having you here — I want you here…” Gods, you were making a mess of this. You flushed scarlet, wishing you’d just kept your mouth shut. “I just mean…another woman. Female.”

Azriel paused, seeming…surprised by the question. And you…you would have been happy for the ground to swallow you whole.

But then he was shifting on the spot, wings rustling, shadows stirring. He angled himself towards you and asked, “Do you mean…lovers?”

Yes, yes you did. But your nerve had vanished. Your cheeks burned.

Still, Azriel read the confirmation in your eyes. He studied you with an unreadable expression.

“I’ve had lovers.” Of course he had — five centuries was a long, long time to be alive. “Right now, though, I do not. I don’t see anyone. Except you.”

Shameful relief stormed you. There was no label on the, quite frankly, strange relationship you had with this male. Yes, you met regularly. Yes, the two of you kissed — a lot. But Azriel was his own person with his own needs. He was well within his right to fulfill them if he did so wish. With someone…experienced.

It made your heart pinch, though.

You were stolen from your thoughts by warm, scarred fingers touching your jaw. Azriel gently turned your face towards him.

“Have you been worrying about that?” he asked. “That I come here to see you, and then fall into bed with somebody back home?”

Such gentleness in his tone. You swallowed, reading his face. “I have no right to worry about it. You are…unattached. If you need to find release in somebody—”

“I don’t need to at all.” His voice was like silk. And his eyes…they unmistakably flickered down to your lips. “And on the contrary, I’m very much attached.”

Like a switch in your brain, that bitter, oily jealousy was replaced by…want. Need. To taste his mouth again.

Though he was the most common instigator of your kisses, there was no denying you’d grown in confidence with each one since that very first time. And that confidence aided you now, as you leaned forward and settled your hand on Azriel’s jaw. Slid your lips over his.

He kissed you back without hesitation, a pleased hum seeming to sound in a deep part of his chest. And just as you always did, you were becoming lost in no time, in his scent and his taste and the weight of his mouth on yours.

But this time was different, because you were different. More curious, more confident. You didn’t want to shy away from your intrigue or the new experiences that hovered just out of reach. You didn’t…didn’t want to just be the girl whose life was confined to this inn in this village. You wanted more.

Wanted Azriel.

You shifted where you sat, not breaking the kiss as you tucked your legs beneath you and pushed onto your knees. Azriel’s hand immediately steadied your waist, its heat permeating your clothes — and that in itself was…pleasurable. You breathed a sigh into his mouth, inching closer, closer, your hand slipping down to the collar of his tunic.

But just as quickly, he was pulling away. Pulling his lips from yours.

He panted, something dark and tempting in his eyes. And much to your disappointment, he rasped out, “We need to stop.”

You tried not to let your shoulders slump. “Why?”

“Because we’re getting carried away.”

You stared at him — his utter perfection. Did he…did he not want to take things that far with you? Maybe you’d read entirely too much into his kisses, more heated with every stroke. Maybe this was simply fun for him, and you…you would never cross his mind, if he were to take another lover.

You didn’t understand any of this. How it was supposed to work.

You rocked back on your rear, heat creeping up your neck — a different, unpleasant kind. One that made you want to bury your face and hide.

But before you could move another inch, Azriel was grabbing your hand.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly.

Your eyes inched up to his. “What?”

“Don’t be ashamed or embarrassed of what you want. Don’t regret having confidence.”

“…You don’t want it though, do you?”

He stared back at you. Confirmation enough.

“You don’t want me — like that. Because I’m inexperienced, or—”

He squeezed your hand. “It has nothing to do with that.”

“Then what is it?”

His eyes swept over you again, and they were…open — perhaps more open than he was normally comfortable with. Your own gaze fell to your joined hands, as he brushed his thumb across the back of your palm, and then laced his fingers in between yours. Locked them together.

“When we take things further,” he said, “I want to know that you trust me. I want to offer myself to you, knowing that you have no doubts about me. And I don’t think you’re there yet.”

“I—”

“It’s alright,” he squeezed your fingers once. “You do not have to justify anything. You have valid reasons for not trusting my kind, and I respect them,” his lips quirked up into a small, teasing smile. “It just means that I’ll have to put the work in to gain that trust.”

Your heart, in that moment, threatened to burst out of your chest. And perhaps things were changing, because you couldn’t imagine that many human men would offer such patience and understanding. Such respect. Azriel cared more about your trust than his pleasure.

Would this male ever stop surprising you?

“It’s not—not you,” you murmured, allowing your thumb to explore his scarred skin. “It’s just…complicated.”

“I know. Like I said, you don’t have to justify it,” he scooted closer, his leg now touching yours. “But…look at me, Y/N.”

You did.

You lifted your gaze to his face — and it wasn’t just the beauty that constantly threatened to bowl you over, but what now sat within it.

You didn’t need experience to know that desire coloured his face. That the way he swallowed, hard, seemed to be some sort of coping mechanism — to rein himself in.

“I do not want you thinking, for one second, that I don’t want you…like that.” His voice held a sudden grit that made you shiver. “Because believe me — I do. I want you, and I think about you, and when you’re ready — when you trust me — I will be honoured to give myself fully to you.”

The words alone…gods, they only made your blood burn fiercer. And you understood Azriel’s reasoning, respected it. But that didn’t mean you weren’t still aching.

“You’re not helping,” you groaned, bowing your head.

A silken chuckle skittered over you, and Azriel’s lips were at your cheek, brushing a kiss there.

“I’ve waited a very long time for you,” he murmured. “I can wait a little longer.”

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It was hard, flitting between the two versions of yourself.

There was the version of you that you’d always known — the one who pulled pints behind the bar at the Bluebird Inn and knew everybody in the village whether you wanted to or not. The version of you that had never considered life outside of this miserable place, because it had always seemed pointless, fruitless.

And then there was the newer version of you. The one who looked forward to that cloak-and-dagger meeting every week, when the most beautiful person you’d ever laid eyes upon would give you hours of his time and company and make you feel like…someone else. Someone more. The version of yourself who laughed and kissed and explored. Who had begun to crave.

You were starting to think the newer version of yourself was the better one. And with every moment Azriel wasn’t here, you were starting to miss him more and more.

Particularly right now, with your father and his cadre home from this week’s campaign. The taproom was full of their booming voices and their arrogantly loud laughter. All you could do was stand behind the bar and watch as they riled each other with tales of the fae and fantasised about retaliation, revenge. It was all they seemed able to talk about.

It bothered you in a way it never had before.

Perhaps because you knew of at least one good fae. Or perhaps because you still hadn’t told Azriel that the human rebellion he’d been made aware of was lead by your father. That he and his men discussed their strategy, their plans, in the very building that you spent such idyllic time with Azriel in every week.

Two versions of yourself, indeed.

Even Devin was here. It seemed he’d finally been swayed to join your father’s cause. A guard-in-training turned rebel. You’d have to be careful about the eye he so often had on you.

Heaving a soft sigh, you spared a glance at the clock. It didn’t seem that any of your father’s group had plans to leave any time soon. Still filthy from days on the road, they seemed content to make use of the bar rather than to return to their respective homes. You just wanted to go to bed. To lay staring at the ceiling and wonder what your winged…friend was doing at the exact same moment.

“Loud, aren’t they?”

Your gaze crept over to Devin, where he took up his usual seat at the bar. He shot you a winning smile that you knew would make every girl in the village swoon.

And yet…where your stomach would usually erupt with butterflies, you felt…nothing.

He was handsome, there was no doubt. But that charm paled in comparison to Azriel’s beauty.

“Just a bit,” you agreed, your eyes flickering to the gathering of unwashed, rowdy men at the centre table. “I don’t know how they don’t tire of having the same conversation over and over.”

Devin cocked an eyebrow. “Well, now, they’re just passionate about the cause. Aren’t you? Surely your father has spoken to you about it at length.”

He had — for the entirety of your life. You knew the cause inside out.

You just weren’t sure it was entirely right anymore.

“Of course he has,” you replied. “I support my father wholeheartedly. Sometimes I just wonder…”

Your words trailed off. This was tricky territory. You couldn’t go around sharing your thoughts just because Azriel was…different.

But Devin leaned forward encouragingly. “Wonder what?”

You studied him. Would it be so wrong, to suggest that good, honest fae were out there? It didn’t wipe away the atrocities that had been committed, of course, but to have an open mind wasn’t a bad thing.

And certainly not for a village guard, either. To be broad-minded, sometimes merciful.

“I just wonder if there’s good and bad in everyone,” you relented a little too quickly. It surprised you…how much you wanted to talk about it, make your point. “There are good and bad humans. Who’s to say that such isn’t the case with the fae? And if it is…should the good fae be punished for what the bad ones have done? It seems—”

“The fae are evil, Y/N,” Devin cut in, his eyes fierce. “Make no mistake about that. It’s not the same with them because they’re made differently to us. They lack what makes us good and moral. They lack compassion and care. They’re self-serving and violent to their very core, and this world cannot be improved upon until every last fae is wiped off the map.”

You blinked, taking a subtle step back. The speech seemed…extreme. You’d never seen Devin quite so aggressive. And it seemed to take a moment for him to snap out of it — to relax the hard set of his jaw, the firm grip on his glass.

His eyes shuttered, and he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, I just…I’ve seen for myself what the scum across the wall are capable of. The bodies of the village girls that were killed…it’s not an image I’m likely to ever forget.”

You studied him cautiously. “I imagine not.”

“I’d hate for you to meet the same fate, Y/N. These are dangerous times, and that filth are only growing bolder. It’s why I chose to join your father’s cause. Why I know that what he says is right.”

Such sure venom in his tone. And yet you knew…you knew that Azriel would never do anything like that.

The entire conversation made you feel sick.

But Devin clearly misread that as fear. Worry. “Get yourself to bed,” he said softly. “These idiots aren’t going anywhere any time soon. I’m sure I can pour a few drinks.”

Bed sounded like a good idea. Bed was safe. A place to think clearly.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a nearby cloth. It was all you could do to murmur a gravelly, “Thank you.”

Devin inclined his head. “Sleep well. And try not to worry,” a soft smile played on his lips. “You’re safe with us.”

You couldn’t muster a response.

But as you made it out of the stuffy taproom and headed for the stairs, you weren’t at all sure, anymore, where exactly safety lay.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“I changed the barrels.”

“Good.”

“And mopped the floors.”

“Good.”

The next morning, you eyed your father as he took his breakfast at one of the taproom tables. He was in an even stranger mood than usual. Even more…pensive. Quiet.

You cleared your throat, gathering his empty cup and plate onto a tray. His dark eyes watched every one of your movements.

“I’ll get these cleaned up,” you said. “And then if there’s nothing else to be done, I thought I might—”

“Don’t worry about that for a moment,” he jerked his head at the tray in your hands. “Come take a seat.”

You paused. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked you to sit with him.

“I want to talk to you,” he pushed. “Sit.”

As you dumped the tray on another table and pulled out the chair opposite his, a bleating panic began to scream inside your head. Had your father somehow found out about Azriel? If he had, you didn’t want to imagine what kind of punishment that would warrant—

“Devin spoke to me before he left last night.” His voice was almost too quiet. “About you.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat. “What about me?”

“He seemed concerned about you. That you don’t truly appreciate the danger that is out there. Do you?”

Fuck. You really shouldn’t have said anything to Devin. Should have known that he’d report back to your father.

“Of course I do,” you answered. And you did know what danger was out there. Your dead mother was a fine enough example.

You just…didn’t think that had to mean that the entire fae species was bad. You didn’t want it to mean that.

“Then what’s all this nonsense about wondering if there are good fae?” your father pursed his lips. “Surely you know better than anybody that there aren’t. You’re without a mother because there aren’t.”

Your body had entirely locked up in the chair. It wasn’t exactly that you were scared of your father; you didn’t think he’d ever hurt you.

But he’d spent years behind this cause, and was closer than ever to it coming to something. This was his purpose, his passion, the thing he cared about perhaps more than anything else in the world, you included. To debate him on it…to question it…it was the worst thing you could possibly do.

You forced yourself to shrug, to look meek and clueless. “I just…asked Devin a question, that’s all,” you answered. “Sometimes I think I could know more. You could tell me more.”

It seemed so long that your father spent studying you. And as he did, you made yourself the version of you that he knew. The picture of innocence. Nothing but mild curiosity.

And then, finally, his body relaxed. He gave a slow nod. “I know you think I keep you in the dark sometimes,” he admitted. “In truth, I have. To some degree. I wanted you to have some semblance of peace and safety in this world, if only a little. But perhaps I’m doing you more harm than good.”

“I—”

“After Devin spoke to me last night, I got thinking. And I made a decision.”

You stared back at him, trying desperately not to clench your fists at your sides. Something about the resolve on his face made your stomach turn.

“What’s the decision?” you asked.

“Next week — I’ve decided I’m taking you out on the road with us. You can get a proper idea of what all of this is about. Perhaps I should have taken you with us before.”

You stared at him, lips parted, not entirely sure he couldn’t hear the shrieking that rang in your ears.

His time on the road was the precious little time you got to have with Azriel every week. What you looked forward to every week. To miss that—

And to miss it to join your father’s campaign…you were sure the colour must have drained from your face. It was bad enough that you hadn’t told Azriel that your father was the driving force behind this human rebellion. If he were to find out you’d actively participated in it…

Well, he’d surely want nothing more to do with you. The thought alone made your heart plummet into your stomach.

“I can’t go with you,” you blurted, and your father’s brow pinched. “I mean…what about this place?” you gestured to your surroundings. “No one would be here to keep the inn open.”

His shoulders relaxed, and there was even a hint of a smile on his face. “I can find someone to hold the fort for a few days, don’t you worry about that,” he reached out, mussing the hair on your head. “You’re a good girl, Y/N. But this trip is necessary. It’s time you understand what we’re up against.”

He stood from his chair, and you could do nothing but watch. There was no arguing with him. His mind was made up.

“It’s decided — you’re coming on the road with us next week,” he turned, and he didn’t look back at you as he said, filing through the door, “make sure you’re fully prepared.”

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